


Both Sides of the Story

by celedan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, First Time, M/M, Martial Arts, Rare Pairings, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 53,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24995491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan
Summary: When rock star Vegeta sees himself confronted with the newest monthly hobby of his son and his best friend – namely becoming martial arts masters –, he has no choice but to go looking for a suitable school – preferably none that is influenced by Hercule Satan's teaching methods. An unlikely tip from Gohan leads him to the school of young master Piccolo. The two men are fascinated by each other, and soon, they become a secret couple. But a well-protected secret from Piccolo's past threatens their relationship.
Relationships: Piccolo/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Both Sides of the Story - German](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001646) by [celedan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celedan/pseuds/celedan). 



> It took me ten years to finish the original German version of this story, and now, a year later or so, I've finally finished the English translation as well. Since I'm just happy that it's done, I haven't proofread the whole thing again after translating, so forgive me if some of the passages may sound a little strange.

DING DONG.

Unsure, Vegeta stopped in his – admittedly rather loud – playing. Hadn't that been the door bell just now? 

DING DONG.

Indeed. Carefully, he put his electric guitar aside to open the door for his unexpected visitors. To his immense surprise, his son and his best friend stood before him. 

“Whoa, Dad, any louder please?”

“Hey boys. What're you doin' here?”

The two children scuttled past him into the light-flooded loft. Expectantly, they planted themselves in front of him when he had followed them into the living room. Sceptically, he scrutinised those two. They looked ready to burst with excitement. This didn't bode well. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

“We wanna learn martial arts!” Trunks finally blurted out.

With a cocked eyebrow, Vegeta looked at his ten year old son. “Really.” 

Two small heads nodded enthusiastically at his dry enquiry. “And pray tell, how came you up with that idea? Didn't you want to become divers last month?” 

“Marine researchers, Dad. But that's boring. Martial arts however is so cool!”

“Gohan and Videl took us to a tournament,” Goten added jittery. “That was sooo cool!” 

Vegeta was still sceptical. “Then you're on the right track already. Videl's father is Mr. Satan after all. The current world champion surely won't deny his son-in-law's little brother lessons.”

“WHAT?!” they blurted out like one.

“But Dad! That guy is so stupid!” 

“Trunks is right, Vegeta. Have you ever met Mr. Satan? A complete dump. No idea how that loser could become world champion.”

“The only thing he can do is bragging. große Töne spucken kann der doch gar nichts. We don't want to have training with him EVER! And therefore...” Trunks shuffled a little closer to his father, and looked up to him with big eyes, “we came to you.”

Vegeta tried to keep a straight face in vain, and at the same time, tried not to let show the cold shiver that ran down his back. “You've thought this through already, haven't you.”

“Pleeease.”

Now, even two begging pairs of eyes looked at him. 

“Do your parents know about this, Goten?”

“Papa said it's okay. Didn't tell Mum yet.”

“And what about your mother, Trunks?”

“She said she's too busy, I should come to you. You'd surely know some wicked guys who can help us.” 

“No. I really don't have any dealings with martial arts in the music business. But I'll ask around for a good school. Promise.”

“Yippiehhh!”

Trunks und Goten's visit had been two days ago already, and until now, Vegeta hadn't managed, apart from some half-assed research online, to look around for a suitable school. He wanted the best school, naturally. And no way did he want one that had got anything to do with Satan since he shared the kids' opinion about the so-called world champion. This would turn out to be his problem though. Satan was incredibly popular, and it would be difficult finding a martial arts school that wasn't guided by his teaching methods. 

Before he could continue his tiring search, his doorbell rang. He hoped that it wasn't the boys wanting some results.

To his surprise, not Trunks and Goten stood before his door but Goten's older brother Gohan.

“Gohan. What are you doing here?”

“Hi Vegeta. Ehm, may I come in?”

Vegeta stepped aside to let the young man enter. After both had seated themselves on the couch, Gohan immediately got to the reason of his visit. “Goten told me that he and Trunks would like to take martial arts classes, but no way with my beloved father in law.”

Vegeta nodded.

“And so, they decided to give all the honours of finding a suitable school to you,” the younger man summed up with a chuckle.

Again, Vegeta nodded. “Which is not that easy. The schools I checked out on the internet all seem to dance to Satan's tune.”

“That's why I'm here. I've got the perfect school.”

This surprised Vegeta immensely now. “How do you know this school?”

“It belongs to a friend of mine. Believe me, he's got nothing to do with Mr. Satan.”

Vegeta leaned back contemplatively. “Is he good?”

“In my opinion, he's the best. He could easily defeat our  _ champion _ .”

“Why doesn't he? Then, we had our peace as well as the satisfaction of seeing this pompous ass shown up.”

“I wish, but martial arts isn't simply an occupation for him parading at your average tournament to brag with your skills or make as much money and fame as you can. His opinion of today's pompous tournaments that have nothing to do with those from back then isn't very favourable as well. For him, fighting is something like a religion.” 

Sceptically, Vegeta's eyebrows climbed upwards. “He isn't some lunatic, is he?”

Gohan laughed out lout. “Oh no. Do you think my mother would have allowed us to play together as kids otherwise?” 

“You know him from your childhood? Why doesn't Goten know anything about it. Surely the boys wouldn't have come to me of all people if you have an acquaintance who can provide them with their monthly obsession.”

Now, Gohan fidgeted nervously, and evaded Vegeta's questioning gaze. “Well, you know... It's been a long time since we've seen each other. It's a long story, and it's not my place to tell you. But please believe me, Piccolo is a fantastic guy!”

“Hm, Piccolo you say? Oh well, give me his address. I'll take the boys there on the weekend.”

Hastily, Gohan scribbled the address of the school onto a piece of paper, and handed it over to Vegeta. Then, he rose. “I've got to go back to uni. My lunch break's over soon. Bye, Vegeta.”

“See ya... and thanks,” he added hastily. 

“No problem.”

And with that, Gohan was out the door. Vegeta could only stare thoughtfully down at the note in his hand. He was curious about this Piccolo. Of course, he trusted Gohan that the man was all right, and Trunks would be in good hands with him, but the whole affair was a mystery nonetheless. If the two had grown up together, why had they lost contact with each other? According to the adrees Gohan had given him, the martial arts school wasn't that far from Gohan's job at the university. And why wasn't it Gohan's place to tell the story? He was really curious. 

Saturday afternoon, Vegeta picked up Trunks and Goten at his ex-wife's, and drove to the adress Gohan had given him. For the time being, he had decided not to tell the boys that the tip had come from Goten, and that the owner was an old friend of Gohan's. He wanted to take a closer look at the school first. 

Being situated in a quite peaceful suburbian area, the martial arts school consisted of different buildings, surrounded by lush greenery which evoked the impression of peaceful seclusion. 

A modern front building with a glass veneer almost completely concealed a big, ancient wooden building that looked as if it could have come right out of a Samurai movie. Another annex, looking a housing complex, was connected to the ancient building on the west side.

It was pleasantly cool in the modern foyer in comparison with the heat outside. It wasn't huge, but tasty and chic. The wall on the left was lined with chairs, probably for waiting parents. On the right side, an impressive pond system was installed, surrounded by exotic looking plants. Opposite to the entrance stood a reception desk. A young woman sat behind it, and was staring down onto something in utmost concentration. 

When she heard the hissing of the automatic doors, she looked up briefly , and then hastily grasped for a piece of paper to cover up whatever was in front of her. Vegeta chuckled. Her current activity probably hadn't been of a work-related nature. The young woman smiled warmly to greet the new guests, but suddenly, her eyes became big as saucers and she blushed violently when she saw Vegeta.

Great. Another fan. You should think that was too old by now to be so popular with such young folk. But maybe his fame was to his advantage in this case. He put on his most charming smile when he reached the reception desk.

“Hey.” 

“He-he-hello,” the receptionist stuttered, and rose with weak knees. “What...” Obviously, she desperately searched for words which turned out to be quite difficult since she was busily undressing Vegeta with her eyes. “What can I do for you, Mr. Vegeta?”

He grinned, and quickly took a look at her name badge pinned to her collar. “These two young gentlemen would like to take some Martial Arts classes. Surely, something can be done about that, right, Noriko?” 

It took much effort on the young woman's part to turn her eyes away from Vegeta's smouldering gaze, and instead look down to follow Vegeta's gesture. For the first time, she noticed the two boys flanking Vegeta left and right who smirked at her cheekily.

“Oh. Yes, of course. I'll take a look right now about free places, but it shouldn't pose a problem!” Her assurance sounded very confident, and she quickly started tiping away on her keyboard immediately. “Ah, here we are... but of course there are free places available for the two boys!” 

Of course. Vegeta grinned inwardly.

Swiftly, Noriko picked up a clipboard, and stepped around the reception desk. 

Sie griff sich flink ein Klemmbrett und trat hinter dem Tresen vor. “Shall I give you a tour of the school first? Then you can meet the boss as well.”

Vegeta nodded, and the three of them followed her. Instead of fixing his gaze onto her purposely swinging hips, Vegeta threw back a quick, curious gaze back because he had noticed the piece of paper she had used as a cover fluttering to the ground in her eager haste. An open magazine lay in front of the keyboards, and ebpven frim a distance, Vegeta could make out which photo had been open. He whipped his head around again to rather stare at the receptionist's hips. 

Oh no. Not those blasted photos again! 

They would haunt him forever! Why had he let himself be talked into that by the rest of the band?! 

The young woman led Vegeta and the kids through the glass corridor connecting the foyer to the old building, a long hall with a narrow ceiling, laid out with mats, and lined with benches along the walls. A couple of kids and younger adults were busily training the first steps of Martial Arts. A tall, bald man wearing a dark violet gi supervised them, corrected their movements from time to time, and gave orders. He was aided by two other men who watched the young pupils equally as attentive, but they held back more, letting their Master lead the class.

“Boss!” Noriko shouted.

The man turned around, and now, Vegeta could see his handsome, striking face for the first time which showed no emotion whatsoever though. Ink-black eyes scrutinised the newcomers as they approached.

“Mr. Vegeta, this is Master Piccolo, the school's owner,” she introduced before she turned to her employer again. “Boss, the two boys'd like to take classes.” 

A tiny stirring of disapproval flittered over the otherwise impassive face when her employee called him “boss”.

“I didn't think that  _ you _ would have wanted to take classes, Mr. Vegeta.”

The two stared at each other. Vegeta clearly sensed the condemnation this Piccolo showed him. But no, it wasn't really condemnation but rather something else. What, Vegeta couldn't tell yet. Frowning, he scrutinised the other man critically.

“Thank you, Noriko. I'll take it from here.”

She looked a little disappointed to have to part with Vegeta, but nonetheless followed he boss's order, and returned to her workstation. 

Piccolo turned to Trunks and Goten. “I believe, we haven't been introduced yet.”

“I'm Trunks and that's Goten,” Trunks answered promptly. 

“Nice to meet you. I am Piccolo.”

“Are you really a martial arts master?” Goten asked with big eyes.

Piccolo smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“You're awfully young to be a master,” Vegeta drew the other man's attention to himself again. 

The man looked at him with hard eyes. “Skills aren't a matter of age. And about experience... some have to gather their experiences faster than others.”

Piccolo turned towards the two boys again. “You know, if you want to learn martial arts, you realise that you can only do so with much discipline and diligence. There's no doing things by halves with me, and I won't train anyone who wants to fight on a whim. Do you understand this?” Piccolo's question was friendly, but his voice held a certain note of authority.

Trunks and Goten nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Vegeta eyed those two sceptically. He'd had enough experience with the boy's whims, and he actually didn't think they would keep their interest in martial arts for long. But maybe, this time, he was wrong. They seemed to have taken to Piccolo immediately which was seldom with these two, especially with Trunks. As long as they got along with him, Vegeta didn't care that the man didn't seem to like him at all. 

“Very well. What do you say to join in on the training?”

“Oh yes!” it sounded with one voice. 

Smiling, Piccolo beckoned over a tall, bald man, one of the two assistant trainers. The eye that was tattooed onto his forehead got Vegeta's attention immediately. Although he carried himself like his master, a whole other kind of aura of power and professionalism surrounded him. Really interesting these people here, not at all like Satan and his pompous, incompetent students. Which, of course, was good. That's why they were here after all. 

“This is Tenshinhan, my best student and one of my assistant trainers. He will show you everything. I'll have a little chat with your father in the meanwhile, Trunks.” 

With shining eyes, Trunks and Goten followed the other man. In the meanwhile, Piccolo sat down on a bench at the heads of the trainings hall, Vegeta following him there. Casually, the two watched the students for a while. 

“What makes you think that Goten isn't my son as well?” Vegeta asked, testing, although he could imagine the answer.

“Oh please. He's the spitting image of Goku. Therefore, I assume Gohan told you about my school.”

“Indeed. They boys didn't want to go to a school that's influenced by Mr. Satan's teaching methods.” 

A derisive noise sounded from Piccolo's throat. “Understandable.”

“Hell yes.”

They shared a small grin. At least they agreed in that.

“Please forgive me if I acted hostile towards you,” Piccolo said softly. “I only didn't like the thought of the press creeping around here.” 

Vegeta scrutinised the other man. So that was the reason. He recalled Gohan's words. Did this man hide something which he didn't want the press to uncover when they learned that Vegeta enrolled his son in this school? Well, he would find out, either that Piccolo would tell him on his own one day or that Vegeta had to acquire these information by himself. 

“Don't worry. I learned a long time ago to ditch these blokes. For Trunk's sake.” 

“I understand.”

Piccolo looked Vegeta in the eye who returned the piercing gaze, and withstood it. This man fascinated him more and more, and for some reason, Vegeta wanted to keep in the man's good graces. 

“Do you know your fans that the blue isn't real?” the taller man asked with a chuckle just to change the topic, and the moment was gone. 

“What?” For a moment, Vegeta stared into the black eyes in confusion which he seemed unable to tear away his gaze from. Then it dawned on him. “You mean my contacts?” Vegeta shrugged. “Suits my hair, but it's really annoying to wear the things offstage. I'll see ev'rything with a blue hie.” He raked his fingers through his spiky, white-blond hair.

“And constantly bleaching isn't inconvenient?”

“It became part of my image through the years.” He shrugged again. “But you're one to tell. Shaving all the time is better or what?” he asked sarcastically.

“It sucks,” Piccolo grinned, and absent-mindedly brushed his bald head. 

And there it was again, this moment where both of them felt as if they knew and perfectly understood each other. The situation was strange, almost a little bit creepy.

For some time, they sat next to each other in a comfortable silence while watching the kids. Happily, Piccolo noticed that Trunks and Goten showed talent, and they seemed to have fun. 

“They are talented,” he told Vegeta softly. “You can fill out the application form at Noriko's desk,” he continued, and the rose to attend to his pupils again. From the corner of his eye, Piccolo saw Vegeta grimace. He laughed softly. “Well, that's something you'll have to deal with when you take the boys here. Noriko is hopelessly infatuated with your band, and especially yourself.”

“Oh really, I hadn't noticed,” the older man replied sarcastically. 

They exchanged a last piercing gaze with each other before Piccolo left. For some time, Vegeta watched the lessons, then he decided to get the application over with to escape the receptionist's clutches again as soon as possible. For him, it was out of the question to look for an alternative – for Piccolo, too, it seemed which either spoke for a good portion of arrogant self-confidence on Piccolo's part or he was really that good and knew it –, not just because Trunks and Goten liked it here even if he used it as an excuse. He wanted, no, needed to see Piccolo again. The reasons for that were unclear at the moment, but he had learned to trust his instincts which urged him to get to know the other man better. 

“Oh, Mr. Vegeta!”

Noriko's voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he managed to suppress a pained expression at the last moment. Instead, he smiled at her winningly. “I'd like the application forms, please.”

The adoring smile on Noriko's face morphed into an expression of complete ecstasy. “Wonderful!” she exclaimed. “You won't regret it!” 

_ Wanna bet _ , he thought, pained.

The kids' lessons took place every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon. If Vegeta's schedules allowed for it – and he caught himself repeatedly to re-schedule his appointments if possible so that he had those days more or less at his free disposal –, he drove them there, and often watched the training. The few other interested parents who were allowed to watch their childrens' lessons from time to time were ignored by him if he could, and if they weren't too pushy. 

Actually, he wasn't that interested in martial arts. He wasn't a big fan of sports in general, except for a bit of strength training. Therefore, if he wanted to or not, he had to confess that his subconsciousness brought him here over and over again for a completely different reason. And that reason put him in a slightly sullen mood because it could only be because of Piccolo that he came here all the time. Even if he didn't know the other man, only having talked to him for a couple of minutes, but nonetheless, he thought him incredibly interesting and mysterious. They had a lot in common although it didn't seem like that at first. Their very jobs couldn't be more different. But it was refreshing to meet a person who wasn't interested in Vegeta's fane. The sharp, sarcastic mind and the even sharper tongue of the sombre martial arts Master were a welcome change from all the people who were screaming their adoration like his fans, grovelling before or sucked up to him, but even from people like Bulma who mostly ignored or screamed at him when they met. None of these people saw him as he really was but only as the God-like sex object, a valuable product or... well, his relationship to Bulma was a chapter on its own. Piccolo on the other hand was completely different, and therefore, Vegeta enjoyed every moment the two of them talked as equals, often enough unable and unwilling to keep their sharp tongues in check concerning specific topic, or simply spend moments together wrapped in companioble silence while watching the childrens' training. 

Furthermore, Vegeta was reminded, every time he set foot into the school, this almost completely different world, that he'd sometimes give everything to escape into Piccolo's withdrawn life, without hysterical fans, without pushy reporters, without concerts, without photo shoots. He loved the kick to be on stage, and all in all, he was content with his life, but that nonetheless, when he sat next to Piccolo here on that bench, he got the feeling that this was enough, that he could find peace here without feeling as if something was missing from his life. He'd never met a human being like this quiet, serious man about whom he didn't really know anything, but whom he trusted deeply and instinctively.

Much to his surprise, and to a small part shock, Vegeta realised that he felt drawn to the younger man in a physical way as well. 

He accepted these feelings, though, and could justify in front of his masculinity that he sometimes threw himself into meaningless affairs with men that were all about the physical. The press and the public fortunately didn't know. Even the band didn't which was fine with him because like he knew some of them, they didn't drop the clichéed image of the testosterone-loaded and therefore slightly homophobic rock star away from the stage either. If, some day, it should all be revealed, then he was fine with that as well, and the women of this world would drown in a sea of tears or in plans for revenge. It didn't matter either way. For him, it wouldn't be the end of the world. He'd deal with the lads, they knew that you didn't cross Vegeta unpunished. Anyway, some people probably thought that random affairs were part of a rock star's life as well as drug excesses and orgies. He was careful with which men he slept only because of Trunks, so that he didn't encounter someone who would run to the press the next morning to blap. Of course, he was as careful with his female affairs as well. He liked to keep his private life private even if it wasn't always easy which was why he was rather married to his work than people. But they were only that, affairs. It was just about sex. Even Bulma hadn't been more than an extensive affair although she had fascinated him deeply. 

But Piccolo... something was different if he was with the younger man, it was so... intensive. And they hadn't even slept with each other, they were only casual acquaintances. It scared him, this otherness of their relationship, and he felt clearly that, in the long run, he wouldn't be able to keep up a solely amicable relationship with Piccolo. There was more between them. And he believed that Piccolo felt it, too. Could this mean that, for once in his life, he was interested in more than an affair? 

He didn't think it a good idea to want more. Up until today, one night or a few weeks at the most had been enough. Most women he dated were beautiful but shallow, not to say dumb sometimes (the Heavens knew why these people always attracted his attention since dumbness only infuriated him). His attractive male dates were pretty talkactive most of the time as well since they were incredibly nervous in his presence, and thought they had to overcome the silence through mindless prattling. They were all people who looked good at his side on the red carpet, but were difficult to stand in private life over a longer period of time. 

This was one reason why Vegeta felt so comfortable with Piccolo because the other man was as taciturn as himself, and only talked if he really had anything to say to keep people at a distance or reprimand them through razor-sharp and sarcastic remarks, like Vegeta himself did. 

So, maybe it wasn't just Piccolo's agreeable character which attracted him so much? So different from all the others... no. It was definitely more. There was this certain sizzle between them, but even that felt different than normal. More intense, deeper, and... special. They fit so well, and complemented each other perfectly; it was almost creepy. He'd more in common with Piccolo than with every other human being before him. He wasn't used to something like this; a relationship that was mentally stimulating as well. But what if he couldn't deal with that? What if he was so jaded that he could only deal with shallow relationships, and wasn't capable of a deeper emotional bond? In that case, should he really get involved...

In the first couple of weeks since their first meeting, their relationship was still neutral, also because it always were only short moments they could spend together. But with time, both began to seek each other's vicinity although subconsciously. Now, it happened more and more that Vegeta, with Piccolo's consent, arrived earlier at the school to watch the lessons – with Trunks and Goten's enthusiastic approval since they hoped to learn a lot by watching the older pupils train. To be precise, to watch Piccolo who taught his advanced pupils before the children, giving Vegeta a brief insight to his true abilities. Often, he caught himself being unable to tear his gaze away from the muscular body that moved with such ease and grace that it seemed hardly human.

As luck would have it, one Thursday, Trunks forgot his beloved Jacket at the school without which he couldn't survive a whole week. Willing to make sacrifices, Vegeta undertook the hard task of driving back to the school – although only after he had dropped off his offspring and his friend – to pick up Trunks' one and only. This, but only by chance, really, gave him the chance to talk to Piccolo without all the excitement of the lessons around them and without little troublemakers prowling around them like vultures.

The last pupils just left the school with their parents when Vegeta once more parked his car next to the building. Now, everyone seemed to have gone for good because a peaceful silence lay over the school when he entered. He crossed the foyer, heeding in the direction of the trainings hall. The former was deserted as well – much to his relief since he wanted to spare himself a second encounter with Noriko passing him suspiciously closely to painfully pinch his backside. He already sported bruises where her long nails had pierced the flesh ungently.

He heard the rushing of water from the locker room to his left. He was about to head for the shower room when Piccolo suddenly appeared next to him.

“I've got Trunks ' jacket in my office,” the younger man said softly, and tilted his head in the direction of his office right on the left side of the entrance to the trainings hall. “Why don't you come in a moment.” 

Vegeta followed him into the small office, and looked around curiously since he'd never been in here. The walls of the small room were lined with shelves full of books and folders, and only a window opposite the door broke up the shelf. A papyrus picture with a dragon on it adorned the only free spot of wall above the desk to the right of the door.

“Sit down, please,” Piccolo offered one of the chairs in front of the desk to Vegeta while he himself sat down behind his work place. Trunks' jacket lay on the dark wooden surface. 

“So,” Piccolo began hesitantly, his gaze firmly fixed onto the jacket, and for a moment, he looked so intensely at it as if it held all the answers to his questions. “Is Trunks unable to live without this jacket or is there another reason why you have come back?” he eventually asked slowly, and finally, he dared to look Vegeta in the eye. 

Vegeta squared his shoulders, and had to suppress a shudder when Piccolo's gaze met his. 

So, Piccolo had noticed the tension between them, too.

And the younger one had apparently mustered up all his courage and decided to finally talk about the growing attraction between them instead of continuing to dance around each other.

Piccolo's night-black eyes studied him intently. Vegeta felt completely helpless and naked under this intense look, but was also determined to end the hide-and-seek game.

Theoretically...

A shiver ran down his back. He cleared his throat and now also stared at his son's jacket. “Well... it was a good enough excuse to come back,” he admitted slowly, finally daring to take a look at his counterpart. There was something warm in Piccolo's gaze, the sight tempting Vegeta have the larger man here and now on his desk...

“And what did you need this excuse for?” Piccolo suddenly asked further and luckily tore Vegeta out of his hardly G-rated thoughts. The almost magical intensity of the moment was gone, but the tension between them was still in the seemingly static air.

For the life of him, he had no suitable answer to this question. Telling the truth suddenly seemed a little early, even if he normally had no problems with saying what he thought or wanted. But he didn't want to lie either...

Piccolo seemed to notice his dilemma, and took the lead in the conversation again. “Why don't we get a little more informal, huh? Please call me Piccolo.”

Vegeta nodded gratefully. He felt so stupid. Like he was on his first date as a teenager and even then he hadn't been as nervous and helpless as he was now. It annoyed him that Piccolo, who was by far not a sociable person and therefore probably not a flirting and relationship expert, mastered the situation much more confidently than he did. He who, for decades, had confidently and determinedly been dealing with screaming, hysterical fans almost every day, who had sometimes been damn close to tearing his and his bandmates' clothes off in their ecstatic expressions of love... or groping him on a weekly basis lately.

Angry about his own behaviour, Vegeta clenched his hands into fists, trying not to let Piccolo see. He just couldn't bring himself to be angry with Piccolo for making him feel like that. Instead, his anger was directed against himself. Although he saw nothing shameful in his feelings, his adolescent, uncontrolled and embarrassing behavior was. If Piccolo were one of his normal flirts, Vegeta would have been the one who would have gotten down to business as quickly as possible and then ended up in bed with each other. But this was a completely unfamiliar situation for him and Piccolo wasn't one of his usual flirts or one-night stands...

He took a deep breath, and tried to keep his voice calm and relaxed. “I have to admit that I am fascinated by you,” he confessed to the younger man, wishing at the same time that he hadn't.

Piccolo cocked an eyebrow questioningly. There was a small, cheeky smile on his lips, as if Piccolo was enjoying being able to play with Vegeta to the fullest. “Really?”

“Indeed,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

“Why?” There was a real confusion behind Piccolo's teasing tone.

“Because you are different from everyone I've ever met,” Vegeta replied simply without thinking too much about it. “You don't care about the world in which I live, don't adore me mindlessly, but treat me as an equal so that we can talk to each other normally and seriously... and that's new to me.”

Vegeta got the feeling that Piccolo didn't like the answer for some reason because a shadow suddenly fell over Piccolo's alert look and his lips tightened.

“I like to live a quiet life and don't care about such a hype,” Piccolo replied, but to Vegeta, it felt like an excuse. He felt that the other was hiding something, but instead of digging further, he retreated to not corner the other man and thus running the risk of the younger man completely distancing himself from Vegeta.

“Forgive me for insulting you.”

“You haven't. It's just... we don't really know each other and...”

“I see,” Vegeta interrupted quickly to end the uncomfortable situation for both of them. “But I would like to change that.”

Piccolo's eyes grew softer, more conciliatory and he smiled hesitantly. “I would like that.”

“Good.” Vegeta tried to give his answering smile a both encouraging and challenging touch.

There were a few moments when they just looked at each other intensely.

“Alright,” Vegeta finally said, standing up with Trunks’s jacket over his arm. “I have to go now.” He held out his hand to Piccolo who took it. “I'll see you next week.”

“I'm looking forward to it,” the martial arts master replied, the two men looking deeply into each other's eyes without realizing that they were still holding hands.

When they finally noticed it, they dashed away from each other. They kept eye contact for a moment before Vegeta nodded his goodbye and left the office in more of a hurry than he had intended.

Piccolo sank back into his desk chair and looked longingly after the other man. Unconsciously, he ran his fingertips over his pleasantly tingling hand that had touched Vegeta's a few seconds ago.

He sat there for a long time staring at the door.

During the training session next Tuesday, neither Vegeta nor Piccolo let show any of the tension they had been in for the past few days. Fortunately, even though Piccolo could only spare Vegeta a few minutes of his time, their conversation was as pleasant and relaxed as ever.

Piccolo was happy about it – both about the unexpectedly relaxed atmosphere between them as well as the fact that he barely had time for Vegeta – so that he therefore could concentrate better on the lessons. At the same time, he was relieved to train the children and not his advanced students. This allowed him to let his attention drift a little which he still considered unforgivable, and that in turn angered him.

He glanced at Vegeta out of the corner of his eye before he sighed and turned away, forcing himself to pay full attention to his students.

This man confused him. And much worse, he unsettled him. Up until now, Piccolo was happy with what he had made of his life and created on his own, but Vegeta just burst into his isolated, disciplined world and messed everything up. Piccolo did not know the feelings that haunted him when he was with the other man or even thought of him, but he knew very well what they meant. He had never once had the impression that something lacked in his life, that he lacked a relationship or even sex. But suddenly, he started to worry about something like that. He felt silly. And how he had flirted with Vegeta! He was deeply ashamed of it, even if he seemed to have done it out of some kind of instinct. Still, he couldn't be angry with Vegeta. It was his own fault.

Therefore, the signals Vegeta sent him back to his flirting confused him immensely. Did that mean that he wasn't alone with his feelings? After all, that was how it had seemed in their conversation last week. But how serious were Vegeta's intentions? Piccolo saw himself unable to get involved in a superficial affair – and after all, he knew Vegeta's reputation. He needed more in his life, security and consistency. If Vegeta wasn't ready, was just looking for something completely different in their relationship...

He shook his head fiercely. Even if Vegeta returned his feelings – and he was willing to accept that he actually had feelings for the other man –, it could only end in disaster. He would have to go into this relationship with a lie, and he didn't want that. But even if he acted against his principles and lied to Vegeta just to be with him, he was afraid of what would happen if one day he found out the truth. The few people who mattered to him knew. That was bad enough, but he trusted them. In turn, he hardly knew Vegeta, and made himself vulnerable by placing his trust in a practical stranger who was also such a public figure. They would both go through hell if one day, his secret came to light. Not only would both of them be affected by the emotional pain it caused, but Vegeta’s publicity would also make the whole world aware of his shame. He could lose everything he had created. Was it worth it? Was someone else's company and a sexual relationship he never missed or needed before worth all the pain?

He looked back at Vegeta and remembered the pleasant tingling of his hand when they said goodbye last week, the strong, positive feelings that filled him when he spoke to Vegeta, and the strong longing that he had felt unintentionally when they said goodbye...

What if it didn't go wrong? What if he missed out on the best thing in his life that could happen to him just because he didn't want to take any chances?

Vegeta suddenly caught his eye, and they stared at each other, Vegeta a little surprised at the thoughtful, torn expression in Piccolo's eyes which immediately gave way to determination before Piccolo turned back to his students.

Lessons ended just a quarter of an hour later. While the little students scurried into the changing rooms and Tenshinhan cleaned up behind them, Piccolo carefully approached Vegeta who was looking at to him from the benches.

“I'm not an expert, but I think the two are making progress,” Vegeta said.

Piccolo smiled, and sat next to him for a moment. “Yes. They do. I rarely see students who are so eager.”

Vegeta snorted cynically. “Just wait. These two are unpredictable.”

“We'll see,” Piccolo replied confidently. He hesitated for a moment, and let his gaze wander around the training room before he gathered all his courage. “Why don't you come over tomorrow evening?” he asked uncertainly. “It's very late now, and I still have work to do. We could continue our conversation tomorrow.”

A smile of anticipation tried to creep its way onto Vegeta's face, but he suppressed it with dignity. “Sure, why not.”

The older man furtively glanced sideways at Piccolo, but then turned his gaze away casually when the first children stormed out of the locker room, followed by Tenshinhan.

“Should I bring something to eat?” Vegeta asked, getting up as Trunks and Goten marched out of the locker room, laughing.

Piccolo, who was about to go join Tenshinhan, paused to think for a moment. Then he nodded. “That would be good. I have classes until tomorrow evening, so I won't have time to cook anything for us.”

Vegeta rose with delight. “Okay. Do you have a preference?”

“No. Surprise me. But next time, I'll cook.”

Vegeta looked at him intently. “The next time?”

Piccolo returned the look with the same intensity. A small, promising smile played on his lips. “Next time.”

_Great_ , Vegeta thought, annoyed when he got in the car the following evening. It promised to be a great first date since he would turn up at Piccolo's with take-away food – albeit very good take-away. Maybe he should have asked Bulma's mother to cook something for him...

Woah, stop, stop stop! First date?! What kind of directions were his thoughts steering into now? Date, ts, as if. Until now, everything only hinted at a nice evening between friends... 

_ Yeah, sure. Don't kid yourself, Vegeta. You know what you want from him, and his look yesterday wasn't really something to be misunderstood either.  _

Angrily, he gripped the steering wheel tighter and stared straight ahead while he, inwardly torn, was still trying to convince himself that he wasn't about to fall in love with Piccolo.

Vegeta had seen from the street that it was dark in Piccolo's apartment, but there was still light on in the training hall. After all, he was a quarter of an hour early.

He purposefully entered the building – no Noriko in sight, fortunately – and headed for the hall. He stopped abruptly in the entrance because what he saw struck him speechless. Piccolo was engaged in a fierce training fight with Tenshinhan.

To be honest, due to a lack of interest, he didn't understand too much about martial arts and he had only watched Piccolo fight to enjoy the beautiful sight, but what he saw now proved to a layman like him that Piccolo had truly earned his championship titles. Since Piccolo now had an equal opponent instead of his inexperienced students, he was able to show his full potential. His graceful, light movements were so fast as he whirled through the hall with Tenshinhan like a well-choreographed dance that Vegeta could barely see anything, but the details he could see took his breath away. It looked so effortless to fend off Tenshinhan's kicks and blows to then deliver an attack right away. Undoubtedly, Tenshinhan was also very good since he seemed to be able to keep up with his master without any problems, but his movements did not provoke the same reactions in Vegeta as Piccolo's did. It was extremely exciting to watch the martial arts master in full battle glory. The bag of food which he held with motionless fingers was slowly getting cold, simply forgotten; at this moment, his world revolved solely around this captivating spectacle that presented itself to him. His gaze was fixed firmly on Piccolo's glistening, muscular body. He suddenly longed to stroke his hands over the firm muscles covered by soft skin. He wanted to feel the wild passion of this otherwise reserved man which was unleashed in the fight at that moment. When the man, who was always so controlled, unleashed such rampant passion in the heat of the fight but still controlled his incredibly powerful movements so precisely and ironly that it made every dancer jealous, Vegeta hardly dared to imagine what he would be like in bed...

The opponents were so deep in their struggle that they hadn't even noticed Vegeta. At some point, Vegeta did not know how long he had been standing there and watching, the fighters seemed to notice their observer after all, because both fighters stopped, bowed to each other, and went to meet Vegeta.

“Hello Vegeta,” Piccolo greeted him with a smile.

“Nice to see you,” added Tenshinhan.

Vegeta nodded to both in greeting.

“So, what do you think of Tenshinhan's skills?” Piccolo asked casually, but with undisguised curiosity as both fighters dried their faces and arms with towels.

“Well, I'm not an expert, but I was very impressed with your fight,” Vegeta admitted. He couldn't tell whose chest swelled more with pride after this praise even if both tried to hide it with dignity. 

“Tenshinhan will take part in the Grand Tournament next Saturday,” Piccolo said, and proudly put a hand on his student's shoulder which Vegeta somehow didn't like at all. “I am very confident that he will win.”

Tenshinhan laughed confidently. “At least I'm going to get Mr. Satan out of the ring! And when all the fighters are at their level, I am very confident of winning. ”

“Then I wish you the best of luck! I've been waiting for someone to uncover the real face of this puffed-up pimp. ”

Both fighters laughed. “It's not just you who want it, Mr. Vegeta. We can't wait for it either. ”

“On the other hand, not really sporting of you,” Vegeta noted with a chuckle addressed at Piccolo.

The younger man shrugged. “I know. And under normal circumstances, I wouldn't act like that, but this man, with his non-existent skills, throws a bad light on martial arts and he honestly gets on my nerves. ”

Vegeta couldn't help but laugh. Such words out of the mouth of the otherwise so respectable, reserved martial arts master!

“I don't want to keep you from your dinner,” Tenshinhan interjected. “Shall I close up, Master?”

“Yes, thank you. I'll see you on Friday. Rest a little, and then, we'll train again together.” 

“Thank you, Master. Good night.” Tenshinhan bowed, and disappeared in the direction of the showers. 

“Shall we?”

Vegeta nodded, and followed Piccolo past the other's office, and up the stairs leading to his flat. Until now, he'd never been in Piccolo's flat, and therefore, he took a good look around. The whole flat seemed to be one big room as soon as you stepped from the flat door into the living room. A low table was placed in the middle with a modern black leather sofa before it. A few cupboards and shelves lining the walls were the only other furniture in the living room. They were overstuffed with books and scrolls whose content Vegeta would have loved to explore a little closer. The room was divided by traditional Shoji from the kitchen with bar stools and counter on the right side, and from the bedroom on the left side. A door in one bedroom wall probably led into the bathroom that must be situated right above the office. Vegeta immediately took a liking to Piccolo's bed as far as he could make it out through the partly closed slide doors: It was incredibly broad, and had been placed onto a two-level pedestal. A few things promptly sprang to mind what they could get up to in such a bed. 

Piccolo though steered in the direction of the kitchen. Vegeta once more followed, and placed the food on the counter so that he could take off his jacket, and place it over one of the bar stools. 

“Sit down. I should take a quick shower beforehand.”

“Don't bother. Food'll get cold for good. You can take a shower afterwards.” Vegeta's objection stopped Piccolo, but he clearly didn't feel comfortable sitting down for dinner all sweaty. He sat down nonetheless. “I don't mind, I'm used to sweaty men from the stage,” Vegeta assured, and winked at Piccolo, having the desired effect to appease Piccolo, and make him relax a little. 

“You're very proud of the boy, aren't you?” Vegeta asked during dinner which seemed completely tasteless to him, he was solely concentrated on his opposite. 

Piccolo nodded. “He's very good, but that's not the reason I'm proud of him.”

Questioningly, Vegeta cocked his head while mechanically taking another bite.

“He'd had a pretty rough past, and I could steer him in the right directions again through martial arts,” Piccolo continued.

“Then you should be proud of yourself as well to have achieved something like this.”

“No. If it hadn't been his own wish as well, I'd never have reached him. He did all the work, I only nudged him in the right direction. He's been my student for two years now and the school is his home. We've come a long way together, but it was worth it. I'm convinced that he will win the Great Tournament on Saturday. And I know his title won't get to his head like it did Mr. Satan. He will put it to a good, honourable use.”

Vegeta admired how much Piccolo devoted himself to his student, and how much unswerving trust he placed in him. 

“You're a good and admirable person's, Piccolo,” he said appreciatively into the silence.

Piccolo looked at him. “Thank you. I appreciate your compliment... but you don't sound as if you see yourself as a good person, too.”

“Oh please. You help kids who went astray, and are incredibly devoted to the martial arts. What is it that I'm doing?

“You're making people happy with your music. Noriko for example,” Piccolo teased.

Vegeta huffed with a similar sarcastic note in his voice. “Yes, I noticed. That doesn't make me happy in turn!”

“Why do you continue?” Piccolo asked more serious.

“Because I love music,” he answered promptly. “You were Tenshinhan's salvation, music has been mine in my youth. Somehow, it only went uphill for me after that without even intending to become famous.”

Piccolo nodded in understanding. But then, their conversation came to a stop for some time while they turned towards their food again before it got cold completely.

“I really should take a shower now,” Piccolo said eventually after having finished their dinner spent in comfortable silence. He wanted to stand up, but suddenly, Vegeta's grasped his wrist, and pulled him very close so that the other man came to stand between Vegeta's legs without any resistance. And since Vegeta sait on the high bar stool, their faces were almost at the same level. Lovingly, Vegeta caressed Piccolo's cheek, and felt the younger's slight trembling. Hesitantly, Piccolo put his shaking hands onto Vegeta's thighs to at least get some purchase. 

“ Don't you think it's rude to just leave your guest here?” Vegeta whispered.

There ran a tremor in Piccolo's body when he felt Vegeta's warm breath on his skin. Vegeta gripped Piccolo's face with both hands.

“Then... you should better come with me,” Piccolo replied hesitantly, and promptly blushed.

A triumphant but happy smile lit up Vegeta's face. His chance had finally come. He had known that his feelings were not one-sided as a last gnawing doubt had tried to persuade him right to the end – words could be understood ambiguously, gazes misunderstood, but there was nothing ambiguous about this request, not with the tone of voice that Piccolo had used. The other man's nervous and covetous tone spoke volumes and no longer allowed a purely platonic interpretation of this request.

“Good idea,” he grinned, and bridged the last few centimetres between them to kiss Piccolo demandingly. The sudden contact of their lips was like an electric shock that ran through their bodies like lightning, making every muscle tremble. A soft, but also surprised groan escaped the younger man's throat while Vegeta felt Piccolo's questing fingers in his neck and hair. For his part, he wrapped his arms around Piccolo's neck to pull him close, so that there was no more space between their upper bodies.

For a long time, the two men kissed passionately, their whimpering groans and heavy breathing the only sounds in the otherwise quiet flat.

“Come,” Vegeta murmured as he pulled back from Piccolo after a few minutes, completely out of breath. He slid from the bar stool, grasped the other man's hand, and pulled him in the direction of the bathroom where the younger followed him only too willingly. His heart beat like mad in his chest, but at the same time, he felt strangely calm. For the first time since he knew this man, he had the feeling that he had the situation under control completely. After all the flirting, it had to be him now who had to take the lead because although the kiss had been breathtaking in its intensity, Vegeta had sensed how insecure and inexperienced the younger man was.

When he got to the bathroom, he let go of Piccolo's hand with a seductive smile, and immediately pulled his T-shirt over his head and carelessly dropped it on the floor. Piccolo stood frozen in front of him, and eagerly soaked up the sight of the baring body, unable to move. Instead, Vegeta turned his attention to the light blue sash around Piccolo's waist and loosened it so that the metre-long fabric fluttered to the floor. Immediately afterwards, he attacked Piccolo's sweaty tunic, and slipped his hands under it to gently stroke Piccolo's stomach, and let his hands run up his muscular torso until he finally stopped to put them on Piccolo's chest. This light touch was enough to pull the younger man out of his trance. He leaned down to Vegeta with a pleasant shudder, and kissed him hungrily again, letting his own hands – even if a little hesitantly – wander over Vegeta's body. It was like something had awakened inside Piccolo, something that had been slumbering in him for a long time without him even knowing about it. Be it instinct or something else, Piccolo readily accepted this, and when it told him that Vegeta was more important to him than the air to breathe at the moment, he readily accepted that, too. It was as if he had only then realized that he had to breathe to survive, but had only done so for the first time, and was only now realizing how much he had missed.

Without tolerating further delays, Vegeta pushed the tunic up so far that Piccolo understood his request, and finally took it off completely. He couldn't resist letting his starving gaze slide over the younger man's muscular torso. Not one ounce of fat showed under the light, silky skin, only steel-hard, well-proportioned muscles that looked as if they had been carved in white marble by an artist. As if in a trance, he stretched out his arms, and wrapped them around Piccolo's waist to pull the taller man close.

The contact between their naked torsos was electrifying, a crackling spark that ran over their backs and inflamed every nerve in their bodies. At the same time, so that it was almost unbearable for Piccolo, Vegeta let his lips slide over the chest, clavicle and neck of the more muscular man in tender, painfully slow movements. A gentle whimper escaped Piccolo's throat while Vegeta stretched his neck again to stifle that fine sound with his searching lips. Piccolo felt Vegeta's hands slide down his back, along his flanks, down to his waist and they then came to rest on the hem of his pants. With skillful fingers, the older man found the knot on the waistband, undid it, and pushed the obstructive fabric and underwear over Piccolo's hips.

Piccolo swallowed when he felt his last protection slide down his legs, mechanically and without taking his eyes off Vegeta, he stepped out of shoes and pants until he stood finally naked and aroused before the other man. His hands were shaking, he had to work so hard to keep them steady, and not cover himself when Vegeta took a step back to be able to look at him. He suddenly was gripped by the irrational fear of still being considered a disappointment for the older man, if only because he was a man. Piccolo wouldn't have been able to bear the shameful humiliation should Vegeta look at him in disappointment, only to leave Piccolo without another word afterwards. But the burning desire he read in the older man's black eyes made him shudder with relief. The intensity of that look, the way he devoured him, almost scared him, but his doubts were finally dispelled.

At first, Vegeta kept eye contact while he took a step back. But at some point, he couldn't take it anymore. He looked away from Piccolo's eyes, and instead let his gaze slide down the muscular body. Regardless of his urgent, burning desire, despite all of his intentions not to do it due to his impatience, he took a moment to enjoy the sight of what he was offered. It was almost impossible not to look at this perfection. And it was even less possible to not to want to touch the perfect body in front of him. Despite his admiration, Piccolo's uncertain, questioning look was not hidden from him though, so he realized that his intense contemplation made the other nervous, and it was now up to him to act instead. With one step, he bridged the distance between himself and the man breathing heavily with nervousness. Piccolo's breath seemed to get stuck in his throat when Vegeta touched his body again though.

Vegeta's hands slid over fine, white skin, a sharp contrast to his own much darker skin. Reverently, he ran his hands down Piccolo's chest, stayed for a moment with the small, rosy nipples by rubbing his thumb firmly over the two nubs so that Piccolo shuddered violently. But when, earlier, Vegeta had only concentrated on to Piccolo's upper body, now he was determined to change that. Exploratory, he let his hands slide down Piccolo's muscled stomach until he reached his thighs. By now, he only ran his fingertips over the side of Piccolo's thighs, lightly and teasing, then they slowly wandered to the inside, and caressed the sensitive skin there. 

Once more, Piccolo shuddered violently.

For a little while, Vegeta did nothing else but continue running his fingers incredibly gently and slowly over the soft skin of Piccolo's thighs without ever touching the other man's erection. All the while, Vegeta watched his lover's face with hungry, intense eyes, keenly watching his reactions to his touches. It was such a beautiful picture that was offered to him how Piccolo stood before him completely lost, his whole body trembling with arousal, his head thrown back into his neck while his eyes were closed but his lips slightly parted to gulp in precious air. His hands were balled into helpless fists. He could have continued like that forever, watching and caressing Piccolo the whole night, but gradually, he became aware of the burning desire between his own thighs, and he decided to speed up the whole experience a little. 

Vegeta smiled teasingly as he let up on Piccolo who started making whimpering noises of protest.

Disappointed, Piccolo opened his eyes, and looked down at Vegeta, a puzzled look in his lust-blown pupils.

They looked at each other intensely.

Slowly, Vegeta let his hand slide into the back of Piccolo's neck to pull him down towards him.

Willingly, Piccolo followed the soft pressure, and bend down to lose himself in another kiss that made him feel as if he couldn't get enough of them. 

As arousing as the kisses were, they simply weren't enough. It was as if nothing could ever be enough, as if no touch would be able to sate the fire burning through Vegeta's whole being. He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted the other man here and now. Abruptly, he pulled back from their passionate kiss, and shed his own clothing as well, dropping them carelessly onto the floor. He didn't give Piccolo any chance to look at him as well but pressed close to the taller body immediately. Once more his lips hungrily sought Piccolo's and, lost in a passionate embrace, Vegeta manoeuvred them into the direction of the shower. 

That the water was definitely too hot when they turned it on didn't bother none of the two men in this moment. It was as if their desire for one another had shut off all of their other senses. The only thing they still felt were the other's touches on their skin. It was as if flames licked all over their bodies instead of warm human skin touching them, so honed were their senses towards each other. 

Overcome with a sudden, burning impatience and lust, Piccolo stormily pressed Vegeta against the cold tiles of the shower stall, a sharp contrast to the hot water raining down on them on the older man's skin.

Obviously, the younger had decided he wanted to explore Vegeta's body as well because he bend down to slide his lips searchingly over Vegeta's throat until he had reached a spot under Vegeta's ear. When he nipped it softly, the older man sucked in a surprised breath. Piccolo grinned. He intensified his endeavours, and concentrated onto this small spot he had discovered, working it busily with lips and tongue. 

After he few minutes though, he abandoned the spot that turned the other man to pudding in his arms. Instead, he sank to his knees in front of Vegeta. His strong hands glided over Vegeta's chest and further down over his abs while Piccolo's eyes followed the trail of his hands with hawk's eyes, admiringly taking in every centimetre of wet, smooth skin. His hands came to rest on Vegeta's hips, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the two small, hard nipples who practically begged for his attention. Pulling Vegeta a little closer while bending his head, Piccolo closed his lips around one of the hard nubs. Vegeta cried out brokenly as the younger man started nipping and sucking while he rubbed the other nipple between his fingers.

Breathing heavily, Vegeta gratefully leaned against the cool wall at his back, his shaking hands placed on Piccolo's shoulders where his fingers restlessly buried into the hard muscles there.

For a while, he enjoyed the sensual torture before he, impatient once more, manoeuvred behind the other man, and knelt down himself. Taking control of the situation again, wrapping his arms around Piccolo from behind, the younger was once again condemned to inaction. Now it was him who gratefully leaned his forehead against the cool tiles in front of him, bracing his raised forearms against the wall.

Vegeta started nibbling at Piccolos neck from where he wandered further until he reached the lobe of an ear, tormenting Piccolo in the same manner as the younger man had him. 

In the meantime, he slipped his left hand to the front, and grasped the other man's huge cock. Piccolo gasped loudly at the touch, and shuddered in Vegeta's arms.

Vegeta grinned triumphantly but stayed from Piccolo immediately again since he felt that it was too much for the other man. After all, he wanted to prolong their fun for a little while more. Instead, his questing hand wandered upwards until his fingers encountered left nipple he could maul instead. 

Unerringly, he rubbed his other hand over Piccolo's back down towards the tight globes of his ass, slipping his fingers between the muscular cheeks, and gently rubbing over the tightly closed muscles of Piccolo's entrance. 

He paused when the enticing body in his arms froze all of a sudden. He heard the abrupt, startled gasp, and felt Piccolo's heart racing under his other hand that lay on the hairless chest. A last shred of clear awareness suddenly breached the fog of his lust-addled mind. Abruptly, he let go of Piccolo in determination who threw him a confused, incredibly vulnerable look over his shoulder. Vegeta smiled soothingly, gently kissed his shoulder, and took his hand. With the other, he turned off the water. 

Their movements to get up, get out of the shower, and dry themselves were mechanical, without taking their eyes off the other even once. Carelessly, they dropped the wet towels onto the floor, and Vegeta pulled the younger man into his bedroom impatiently and almost crazy with lust. There, he headed for the huge bed.

Wrapped tightly in each other's arms, they once more lost themselves in a passionate kiss.

All the time, they hadn't exchanged even one word with each other, but Vegeta thought this neither unnatural nor inappropriate. Piccolo seemed to feel the same. Why should the destroy this moment through meaningless words if they understood each other without them.

“You have any lube?”

Vegeta's sudden, now unavoidable question finally tore Piccolo out of his foggy trance. He looked blankly at the older man, but then nodded when he realized that he was blushing, detached himself from the other man, and got out of bed to return to the bathroom.

His hands trembled as it slid along the walls, looking for support, until Piccolo finally arrived back in the bathroom with shaky knees, and he hastily grabbed the bottle of massage oil that stood on the mirror shelf. For a moment, he gratefully leaned his forehead against the cold mirror glass as he breathed in and out deeply. Stifling nervousness made his fingers grasp the bottle more tightly until he feared it might shatter in his iron grip.

His heart still pounding like mad, but nonetheless a little calmer and steadier on his feet, he returned to the bedroom, and stopped abruptly. An overwhelmed gasp tried to escape him, but it got stuck in his throat when he saw Vegeta on his bed. The warm, subdued ceiling light which poured over the naked, hot body still wet from the shower made Vegeta's honey-colored skin shimmer like liquid gold, the tiny drops of water that still clung to his skin looked like shimmering pearls. His whole body trembled with excitement, his breath jerky. The older man had thrust his head back, relaxed, his eyes closed as he ran his hands slowly and sensually over his own body, finally sliding them between his slightly drawn up legs and spread thighs to take his erection into his hand with a loud groan. Piccolo swallowed hard at the provocative sight that was presented to him, his throat suddenly dry as dust. As if in a trance, he strode towards the bed, the bottle with the oil firmly in his hand, this time so tightly that the glass was in danger of cracking, but it was his only hold on to reality at the moment, spellbound as he was by the seductive, beautiful body. He gave in to the overwhelming desire, and leaned over Vegeta to kiss his slightly open lips. Another wave of heat rolled over his body as his lips touched Vegeta's. He groaned loudly into Vegeta's mouth as the other man grabbed his arms, and pulled him towards the bed to roll them both around instantaneously.

For now, the vial rolled between the sheets, forgotten.

As soon as he felt the soft mattress under his back, Vegeta's hands and mouth eagerly flew over his body again; the older man lay half on top of him now, and pressed him down with his weight while Vegeta's rock-hard member pressed against his thigh.

How was it possible to have lived without this lust all these years?! He couldn't say how indescribable the feeling of being in the arms of someone who was just trying to give him pleasure was. Moaning, intoxicated, he threw his head back, and arched his chest towards Vegeta as Vegeta's lips, swollen from kissing, closed around his left nipple, and he gently nibbled and sucked on it. After a while, he let go of the hard flesh, and instead drew a damp trace down to Piccolo's navel with his tongue. He slipped between the fighter's muscular thighs, and enclosed his erection with his mouth without warning.

Piccolo cried out, pushing his hips up towards Vegeta. Shocked, he clawed his fingers in the sheets like a life-saving anchour. It felt as if, caused by Vegeta's touch, thousands of tiny electric shocks twitched through his abdomen that made his hypersensitive body shrink from the touch on the one hand, but on the other hand, he couldn't help but urge closer to this feeling and the man who caused it. The sensations that rushed through his body were ten times more intense than when Vegeta had only touched him with his hand.

He was at Vegeta's mercy, and completely, willingly surrendered to these new experiences and the man who gave them to him, ready to give up his iron control of himself for once in his life and to let himself go, even if this complete loss of control frightened him internally.

Vegeta was surprised by Piccolo's violent reaction, as if no one had ever done this for him. He shook his head slightly. Of course nobody had ever done this before; the younger man's insecurity had been proof enough. A joyful grin played around his lips as he stared at Piccolo's face drawn with pleasure, felt his trembling body beneath him in response to his actions. And all these unusual reactions were his work. No other person had witnessed this until now, and if it was up to him, Vegeta thought, overcome by suddenly flaring selfishness, no one would ever see it again. Piccolo was his. Oh and there was still so much he could show the younger man.

Full of zest for action, he returned to satisfying his lover.

Shivering, Piccolo looked overwhelmed at Vegeta as he bent over his cock again to close his lips tightly around him. He stroked Piccolo's hip with one hand and massaged his balls with the other.

Groaning loudly, the younger buried his fingers in Vegeta's hair, and suddenly froze for a moment. Then, a choked cry broke from his husky throat and his body reared up as he poured himself into Vegeta's mouth. It was like a fiery fist wrapped around his loins which contracted his innermost into an ecstatic, comfortably tingling lump that finally exploded inside to spread like a wave of ecstasy all over his body. Then suddenly, he felt a soothing, exhausting calm. He sank back and lay there exhausted. His whole body felt comfortably heavy so that he was unable to move even a single muscle.

Vegeta slid up to him again and grinned cheekily before kissing him, but then detached himself from the breathless man so that he could look at him. He had never seen anything as beautiful as the sight before him. Just the sight of Piccolo, his heaving body soaked in sweat, blushing, robbed of all of his self-control, completely relaxed and detached, ran chills of pleasure all over Vegeta's body, so that he had to pull himself together not to pounce on the younger man for his own satisfaction.

He gently caressed Piccolo's stomach and chest as the younger man caught his breath. Big black eyes looked up at him, exhausted but also shocked, which made Vegeta realize how innocent the other man really was. He smiled fondly at him, and stroked Piccolo's cheek while searching for the lube with his other hand. To his surprise, after he it, he realised it was simple massage oil; another sign of Piccolo's innocence who apparently did not even give in to his body's natural desires in his strict discipline to satisfy himself... Now a little nervously, he uncorked the bottle a little awkwardly with only one hand. He took his hand away from Piccolo's face, and kissed him instead while covering the fingers of his right hand with oil and lightly sliding them down Piccolo's stomach to his loins, between his legs, to finally touch Piccolo's entrance again. When he ran his slippery fingers around his trembling body's opening, the younger man didn't flinch. He only let out a choked, surprised breath in the face of this unfamiliar feeling, but his body remained relaxed. Vegeta smiled. After all, he had relied on relaxing Piccolo through a first orgasm so that his fear was not so strong and his pain was a little subdued the first time. He cautiously entered him with one finger without encountering resistance.

Piccolo's breath accelerated the deeper he was penetrated, and he cried out in distress as Vegeta's finger slid over his prostate, his desire reignited. Vegeta couldn't help but grin, and tortured his lover for a while by tracing the delicate tissue with his finger a few times while Piccolo's muscles contracted around him.

By now, Piccolo was only a whimpering, heavily breathing pile of lust in his arms. His black, lust-fogged eyes stared wildly at the ceiling without really seeing anything, his fingers clawed deep into the sheets while his pelvis arched towards Vegeta so that his reawakened erection stretched toward Vegeta, begging for attention.

Vegeta pulled his finger back just as carefully, and added a second to stretch Piccolo. Now, the younger man winced, and Vegeta hurried to drive him back to the brink of ecstasy.

“Vegeta,” Piccolo whispered after a long minute, imploringly looking down at the man kneeling between his trembling thighs.

Their eyes met, and held on to each other. Vegeta nodded slowly and let his fingers slide out of his younger lover.

With a trembling hand, he reached for the bottle again, and poured a generous amount into his other. Slowly, he stroked his erection with his oil-covered hand, and gripped hard at the same time to stave off his climax.

With wide eyes, Piccolo sat up, and watched the older man. At that moment, he wished it was his own hand that was stroking Vegeta like that or that he could tend to him with his mouth as the other had just done for him. His eyes snapped up as Vegeta's hand stopped. Their eyes met again. Vegeta nodded slightly to which Piccolo replied shakily in silent agreement. He moved closer to him, but Piccolo's hand on his arm made him look up again.

“Hold me,” Piccolo whispered, pulling Vegeta towards him with gentle pressure. The older man, breathing heavily, settled into Piccolo's embrace, gripping his cock more tightly and pressing it against Piccolo's opening. With the other hand, he stroked Piccolo's face.

Vegeta closed his eyes for a moment to collect herself and control his emotions, immediately opened them again and took a deep breath. He shifted his weight to his elbows and knees for more leverage and control over his movements, and slowly pushed himself into him. Piccolo's fingernails dug deep into Vegeta's back until tiny drops of blood gushed from the crescent-shaped wounds. Vegeta let out a groan between gritted teeth, pressed closer to the younger man, and continued to slide into him until the resistant muscles gave way under the pressure. Piccolo bit his lip so hard that it bled, but remained steadfastly pushing towards Vegeta, and wrapping his legs tightly around Vegeta's waist.

To distract Piccolo from the uncomfortable feeling, Vegeta kissed him slowly and intently, tasted the coppery blood from the other's lips, and choked his small, panting breaths with his mouth. Meanwhile, one last sharp, hard push of his hips and the younger man belonged to him. He was trembling, his breath caught in his throat as he sank into the hot, tight body and he had to exercise all his self-control so as not to embarrass himself.

Piccolo's breath caught, then gasped for breath again as he slowly got used to feeling Vegeta inside of him. His blood pounded loudly in his ears and sweat broke out all over his body once more, but it wasn't as bad as he had originally thought; his body was still so pleasantly tired.

After a few minutes of breathing heavily and shivering with desire, Vegeta began to move his hips carefully, watching Piccolo for any pain. But the younger man seemed to have gotten used to him quickly because the heavy, intermittent breathing did not sound like pain but like pleasure.

As he became more and more certain that he would not hurt Piccolo, his instinct seemed to turn his mind off and take control over his body. His thrusts became harder, faster, more uncontrolled, so that he penetrated his lover deeper.

Piccolo greedily met his every thrust with his hips. Their bodies came together more violently with every thrust, the obscene sound of skin slapping on skin with their loud moaning the only sounds in the room. It was almost as if they were in their very own world, isolated from everything else.

Vegeta thrust hard one last time before he froze, and spend himself into his lover, trembling and moaning.

Piccolo gasped, overwhelmed, when suddenly, hot liquid filled him, and for one last time, Vegeta's erection crashed into his prostate, which brought him to the climax himself.

Vegeta shook again when the abrupt rhythmic muscle contractions around his cock made him shiver again in a mini orgasm and squeezed the last drop out of him.

Relaxed, the two lovers lay on Piccolo's bed, sweaty, exhausted, but filled with deep peace. Vegeta was lying crosswise on the bed, his head on Piccolo's strong abdominal muscles, as he pensively ran his fingers through Vegeta's short hair, still dazed by what had just happened to him.

“By the way, I saw the pictures.”

Piccolo's calm voice tore Vegeta out of his own contemplation of what had just happened. He looked up questioningly at his lover.

“Well, the nude photos of you and the band. Noriko always carries the magazine around with her, and keeps it lying open. It was unavoidable...”

“Oh no...” Vegeta noticed how he blushed, and put his face into his hands. Again those damn photos! He sat up, and glared at Piccolo. “Did you at least like them?”

Piccolo smiled. “I've seen more of the rest of the band than I actually wanted now, but I liked yours.”

“Hmph, at least they were good for something,” the older man pouted. “Doesn't it make you jealous?”

Smiling, Piccolo wrapped an arm around Vegeta's waist, and pulled the smaller man against him. “The whole world saw you naked, but that's the only thing they'll get,” he said firmly and confidently.

“That's right,” Vegeta whispered contentedly before closing Piccolo's lips with his.

Without parting, Piccolo rolled them both over so that he lay on Vegeta, and pressed him into the mattress with his weight.

Vegeta groaned as Piccolo's hardening cock pressed against his hip, and he too began to harden again to his amazement. He raised his hips to Piccolo so that their erections pressed against each other. For a few long, intense moments, they rubbed against each other as they kissed wildly before Vegeta abruptly detached himself from Piccolo, and stopped the movements of their hips by pressing his thighs firmly into Piccolo's sides. A little dazed, the younger man looked down at him questioningly and met Vegeta's serious gaze. “Now it's your turn,” he said softly, and Piccolo had to ponder that for a few moments in confusion before the penny fell. His eyes widened in shock, and he made no sound except a choked noise.

“Are you sure?” he finally managed to choke out.

Vegeta nodded. “Usually it's not my thing, but this time, it's different. I would never allow a fleeting one-night stand to take this freedom, but you...” Vegeta still avoided Piccolo's incredulous look and a hint of a blush suddenly covered his cheeks. “I want to give myself to you in this way.”

Piccolo swallowed a couple of times, taking shaky breaths; he still hadn't quite processed what gift Vegeta was willing to give him in return.

But finally, he nodded. He leaned down to Vegeta again to kiss him while groping for the glass bottle with one hand, but only a few seconds later, he had already forgotten it, because Vegeta's kiss stole his senses.

Moaning blissfully, Vegeta wrapped his muscular legs around Piccolo's waist and his arms around his back. He had already felt them in the bathroom, but now his fingers once again came into contact with the fine, linear bumps on Piccolo's back. Shuddering, he pressed his hands tighter against the sweaty skin to pull the taller man closer to him. They had to be scars – a hell of a lot, by the feel of it –, there was no doubt about that, but it wasn't his place to inquire about something so personal on their first night. He would never ask. Not today and at no other time either, although he had come to a decision a few weeks ago to find out the secret that surrounded this man.

He forcibly pushed these thoughts aside. Instead, he paid his full attention to what Piccolo's hands were doing to his body. Groaning, he arched his body toward the other while Piccolo's hands slid more and more confidently and naturally over every inch of skin they could reach.

With eyes blazing with lust, Vegeta looked up at Piccolo. “I want to feel you inside of me; right now,” he whispered, and Piccolo froze.

Now it was getting serious. He swallowed nervously. Then he nodded slowly before kissing Vegeta fervently. He needed that, he needed the familiar, addictive intimacy, so he didn't lose his mind with nervousness. With one hand, he felt again for the bottle with massage oil which had rolled somewhere between the sheets. He finally managed to get a shaky grip around it. He felt just as nervous as he had a few minutes earlier. He was afraid of hurting Vegeta or doing something wrong. He didn't want to disappoint Vegeta. Still, he gathered all his courage, uncorked the bottle, and covered his fingers with the spicy-smelling oil.

He looked uncertainly at Vegeta who gave him an encouraging, even challenging and cheeky smile, and leaned back, relaxed, while his legs slid from Piccolo's hips onto the mattress, and he spread them invitingly. He swallowed at the sight. Taking a deep breath, he carefully pressed an oil-covered finger into the older man while he stroked Vegeta's chest with his other hand  ‒ much more to calm himself than Vegeta, actually. His breath caught as his finger slid deeper and deeper with ease, slowly stretching the older man. Still nervously, his eyes flickered to Vegeta's face as he heard the blissful moan of the other man that told him that he had found Vegeta's prostate. After a few moments, he added a second finger and finally a third.

Vegeta eagerly pushed himself towards the other man, surprised how badly he wanted to feel him inside when it was usually him who always took the active part. He had never allowed his brief conquests to take him, but Piccolo was different. He wanted to lose himself in this man, wanted to share everything with him, and be connected to him in every possible way. He had never felt this urge before.

In order to encourage Piccolo to go a step further, he provocatively contracted his muscles around Piccolo's fingers. The younger man shivered when he imagined that it wasn't his fingers that were being gripped so incredibly tight. He suppressed a groan with difficulty, and narrowed his eyes, but opened them again the next second, and looked down at Vegeta who gently put his hand on Piccolo's cheek.

“Don't hold back. I want to hear you." The older man smiled encouragingly, but also a little restlessly while hypnotically slowly sliding his hand between his legs to grasp Piccolo's wrist. With gentle pressure, he forced Piccolo's fingers out of him. With the other hand, he took the bottle from Piccolo. He sat up and poured a generous amount into his hand ‒ Piccolo was damn big after all. Without breaking eye contact with the martial arts master, Vegeta grabbed Piccolo's erection and slowly massaged it to spread the oil over the hard length.

Now Piccolo couldn't hold back a loud, throaty groan, even if he had wanted to. Shivering, he threw back his head and gasped, all his senses focused on Vegeta's hand around his erection.

Vegeta watched Piccolo's reaction closely. When he sensed that the younger man was about to come, he abruptly let go of him, ignoring Piccolo's protesting whimpers. Determined, he straddled Piccolo's lap, wrapping his arms around Piccolo's neck as he slowly sank down on his erection.

Both men groaned loudly as Piccolo sank into Vegeta's tightness and heat.

Damn, it hurt. He had forgotten how much it could hurt, and at that moment, Vegeta hoped that he himself had been careful enough before and hadn't Piccolo in any way. They both knew that neither of them would admit to pain.

Shivering and clinging together, they remained motionless for long minutes. It was only when the stinging burn slowly subsided that Vegeta dared to lift his hips a little bit, only to let himself sink back down shortly afterwards. Their stifled moans echoed across the room as they clung to each other. Sweat poured from their bodies, making the slide of their bodies that much more effortless.

Piccolo hesitantly jerked his hips up a little, and shivered as he sank even deeper into Vegeta. Breathing heavily, he involuntarily clawed his fingers into Vegeta's hips, and thrust again. And again and again. He couldn't stop, the tightness and heat that held him captive was like an addiction. Vegeta met his jerky thrusts with the same passionate enthusiasm.

Piccolo felt everything in him seem to contract and zoom in only on that one point where they were connected. Ecstasy like he had never known before rushed through every pore of his body, and with a final, uncoordinated, jerky thrust deep into Vegeta's body, he froze. He groaned in surprise when his third orgasm swept him away that night.

The older man suddenly reared up in his arms, his whole body also freezing. Vegeta held his breath for a moment before gasping for air. Piccolo felt hot fluid spurt against his stomach while Vegeta's muscles held his throbbing, hypersensitive member like a vice as they contracted around him.

Warm sunbeams tickled Vegeta's face the next morning. Confused, he scrunched up his nose, and opened his eyes. Where did the sun come from so suddenly? There was no sunlight in his bedroom in the mornings. And they hadn't had a concert yesterday that would left him drunk enough to tumble into some stranger's bed. Then it dawned on him suddenly. Piccolo. Dinner. Yesterday night.

Only then did he become aware of warm, strong arms that hugged him and an equally muscular, naked body that pressed against his back. Relieved, he relaxed again, enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the body behind him, and was amazed that he had been able to sleep in such a tight embrace. If he could, he avoided spending the night with someone, and if he actually did for once, he only did it in someone else's bed or in a hotel room. Never at home. Well, he wasn't at home here either, but that was different. He would take Piccolo into his own home at some point, no question, but he felt no need for it now. Surprisingly, he felt more comfortable here than anywhere else he could imagine. Piccolo suddenly moved behind him, and his arms instinctively tightened around Vegeta. But then, Piccolo's whole body suddenly stiffened when he realized that he wasn't alone in bed. Knowing how confusing such a situation could be, especially for someone who had no experience with it, Vegeta quickly turned to Piccolo to take the awkwardness out of it.

“Hey,” he said, and gifted the younger man with a self-confident smile. Piccolo returned it, and a hue of red suddenly spread over his fair skin.

“Hey.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Piccolo nodded. “Everything okay.”

“Good.” Giving a satisfied chuckle, Vegeta bridged the last centimetres between them to kiss Piccolo thoroughly. 

“Do you have anything to eat?” Vegeta asked after they came up for air. He sat up to climb from the broad bed. Piccolo could only blink after the other men stupidly (or rather, stare at his muscular ass he had a perfect view of), a little out of breath already after such a kiss (and such a view).

“W-what?”

“Breakfast. You wore me out there.” Vegeta threw him a smug grin over his shoulder, and then sauntered into the bathroom to get his jeans. A little space couldn't hurt. He didn't want to overwhelm Piccolo completely after all, he thought with a grin because he hadn't missed that the younger man couldn't seem to turn his gaze from Vegeta for even one second.

To disappear from Piccolo's line of sight as he went into the bathroom obviously brought the martial arts master out of his stupor brcause when Vegeta returned into the bedroom, Piccolo was gone. Instead, he heard noises from the direction of the kitchen.

Very good.

He went into the living room, and let Piccolo prepare their breakfast.

Now he finally had the opportunity to take a closer look around the flat. Vegeta let his gaze wander curiously over the crowded bookshelves. His lover seemed to have a soft spot for legends and myths, because he found most books to be about that topic. Books, it seemed, from all over the world.

_Interesting_ , he thought with a smile, as he glanced sideways at the young man who was still busy with breakfast. _I should remember that._

After Vegeta got rid of the intensive, but also very quickly finished observation of the living room, he joined his lover in the kitchen who was just about to serve them a breakfast of fruit and yoghurt.

Vegeta perched on one of the bar stools, and watched his lover who, much to his disappointment, had slipped on a pair of gi-trousers. Ultimately, he didn't care what he was given to eat. He wasn't a big on breakfast type anyway. The sight of the bare torso, illuminated by the morning sunlight and thus even more clearly accentuating the seductive play of the muscles under the light skin was much more tempting than any meal ever could be. That the fine, silver scars on Piccolo's back stood out in a much starker contrast as well Vegeta tried to ignore. Piccolo did not seem to be aware of this fact either, otherwise he surely would have dressed. Because Vegeta was pretty sure that it would make the young man very uncomfortable if he knew that his scars were so obviously exposed to Vegeta's eyes. He therefore preferred to let his gaze slide a little further down, and instead fixed it on Piccolo's butt.

The sound of boiling water reached his ears, tearing him out of his admiration for Piccolo's body and causing him to start.

“Do you have any coffee?” he asked because, even if he didn't care about the food in the mornings, he cared about his coffee all the more. 

Startled from his practised work, Piccolo turned towards Vegeta with a surprised look on his face, meeting his questioning gaze. Apologetically, he shook his head. “I'm a tea drinker.”

Disappointed, Vegeta's shoulders dropped, and put on a rather desperate mien. “I hate tea,” he declared, but then, he shrugged, and slid down from the bar stool again. “But there's something to be done about that,” he stated more to himself than to Piccolo. 

Before Piccolo could express his regret about the lack of coffee, Vegeta had disappeared in the direction of the bathroom, probably to look for his clothes. A few seconds later, he turned up again since he had realised that the one article of clothing he was looking for, his jacket, hung over one of the bar stools' backrests. Restlessly, he rummaged around in the pockets before he found what he was looking for. Triumphantly, he held something in his hand.

“Coffee candy,” he announced after sitting down again.

Piccolo watched with amusement as the older man peeled the coffee candy out of the foil and finally put it in his mouth with a sigh of relief.

“I'm useless without caffeine.” 

“Th ere is caffeine in tea, too,” Piccolo commented dryly while shaking his head, and, smiling in amusement, he went back to preparing their breakfast. “Even more than in coffee.”

“But the taste is hideous.”

“Oh, and that of coffee isn't?”

“Yes, but I had time to get used to it for decades.”

Still smiling, Piccolo presented Vegeta with a bowl of fruit and yoghurt. He didn’t know what to answer, so he decided to end their refreshing banter, and instead silently enjoy this unfamiliar being together. To his surprise, he didn't even feel irritated that Vegeta's presence had confused his long-standing morning routine. On the contrary...

Like the evening before, they also spent this meal in an extremely pleasant silence during which they shot each other the occasional hesitant glances that were turned out uncharacteristically shy for both of them.

“Vegeta?” Piccolo was reluctant to break the silence because he didn't want to destroy the relaxed atmosphere between them, but he just had to express his concerns.

“Hm?” Vegeta gave him a questioning look as he chewed on another coffee candy after he finished his actual meal.

Piccolo swallowed and hesitated, unsure how to ask his question. But then he forced himself to pull himself together. After all, he wasn't a man who just allowed things to take their course, he needed clarity.

“Where do we go from here?” he finally managed to get out.

Vegeta didn't pretend that he didn't understand Piccolo's question, but instead, he remained silent and watched Piccolo, eager to see what he would do next.

“Do you want a purely sexual relationship or... or could it be more for you?” Piccolo lowered his eyes to avoid Vegeta's searching gaze. Or did Vegeta possibly want to leave it at this one night? Piccolo did not speak this thought out loud though. It was too disturbing.

Vegeta was silent for a long time during which Piccolo became more and more nervous.

“I feel that it is more,” Vegeta finally answered slowly, choosing his words carefully, but straight forward. “But I was never very good at relationships. And even less so with serious ones,” he continued a little apologetically. “So, I cannot promise that I will not become a selfish bastard again someday, and that you will come to hate me as much as all my ex-lovers.”

“I don't see you as a selfish bastard.”

This elicited a painful smile from Vegeta. “Oh yes, believe me, that's how I am. And... and I don't want to hurt you.”

He looked up, and looked helplessly into Piccolo's eyes. He wanted to make it clear to him that he was serious, that he had never felt so comfortable in the presence of another person, and that, with Piccolo, he was completely different than usual, a better person, but he didn't know how. Both he and Piccolo weren't men who expressed their feelings exuberantly and openly, let alone talked about them under normal circumstances. He could only hope that Piccolo would realize how serious he was even without saying it in big words.

“But... if you can put up with that, and want to risk it... maybe we should just see what becomes of us. I can't promise you anything.”

Piccolo looked at him for a long time, so that it was Vegeta who was becoming more and more nervous. It was as if the dark, intense look pierced him deep into his soul. Vegeta didn't know what Piccolo would find there, and he was afraid that the younger man might shy away from it. He could only hope that Piccolo saw something in him that he himself didn't think he was; a man being worthy of taking the risk having a serious relationship with.

Piccolo had apparently found what he was looking for because suddenly, he smiled and nodded. Vegeta breathed a sigh of relief, but he didn't let it show, just returned the smile.

“I think you're right,” Piccolo stated eventually.

“Maybe...” Vegeta faltered, unsure if he wanted this himself. “Maybe we should take it a little more slowly.” 

“You should have thought about that yesterday,” Piccolo replied dryly.

“I know,” Vegeta explained harshly. “I'm just saying that it would be better to put some distance between us to get a clear head again.” Impulsively, he reached for Piccolo's hand and squeezed. “Even if it's been unavoidable somehow, last night came too sudden and rash. And the way I feel at the moment, I would love nothing more than tear your clothes off to get you into bed again, but that's probably counterproductive.” 

“I see what you're trying to say. I can't think straight when I'm with you either. Like that, I can't possibly think rationally how we should go on from here, and especially how slowly we should go.”

Vegeta nodded, however, he feared that he might have upset Piccolo with his proposal despite the younger man's disarming comment. Even to his own ears, it sounded like last night had been a regret.

But much to his surprise, Piccolo agreed. “Therefore, I agree with you. Last night may have been a little too... rash, and we let ourselves be guided by our instincts too much. Normally, I'm not such a impetuous and hasty person that goes to bed with my date the first time. It must really all because of you,” he teased.

Vegeta squeezed Piccolo's hand again, and edged closer to him, prudently ignoring that Piccolo's comment had been meant as a joke; before Vegeta, there simply hadn't been other dates... “See. But _I_ am like that. I'm impulsive, and rash, and I let myself be taken by surprise by emotions too quickly,” he said emphatically. “And that's why I want to take it slow. At least for once, I don't want it to go wrong. I don't want to miss my chance with you.”

Piccolo in turn returned the pressure of Vegeta's hand, and smiled encouragingly. “So let's take it slow.”

Vegeta nodded. “Then... I should better be off now,” he said softly, still holding hands with the other man and looking intently at each other.

Piccolo nodded as well. “I think that's for the best.”

“Okay,” Vegeta confirmed, but he simply couldn't let go of Piccolo. The younger man seemed to feel the same because they quietly held each other's gazes while they held their hands clasped tightly together.

But then, Vegeta pulled himself together, and extracted his hand from Piccolo's. He got up and turned away from his lover, finally breaking the spell.

But before he could go looking for his scattered clothes – and remembered that he left them all in the bathroom –, he turned around again, walked over to Piccolo, and kissed him one last time with passion that he, however, at least tried to keep it a bit in check for decency's sake.

“See you tonight,” he panted when they let go of each other after long, long moments. 

“Okay.”

Once more, he turned around to go now. For real this time. 

In the meantime, Piccolo cleared away the dishes, and forced himself to wash them right away – as he normally did every morning anyway – only to distract himself from Vegeta with all his might. After a far too short time, he heard footsteps behind him, and he paused but did not turn.

“Okay... I'm off then,” Vegeta explained, and Piccolo nodded.

“Til tonight,” he replied softly, and heard as Vegeta's steps departed until eventually, the flat door fell shut behind the older man. Only then did Piccolo let out the breath he had been holding tensely. Suddenly exhausted, he leaned on the edge of the sink and hung his head. He didn't know what to think, wasn't even able to think clearly at all ‒ the step he'd taken in the past twenty-four hours was just too grand for that ‒, so he chose the most sensible path, and continued with his monotonous work.

On the one hand, the time until evening passed in a flash – when Piccolo was able to keep busy with his lessons –, but during the short moments that he had to himself throughout the day, waiting was a pain. Irrationally, he missed Vegeta even though they had last seen each other only a few hours ago.

Piccolo snorted, dissatisfied with his childish, sentimental behaviour, and plunged back into his work.

Just three hours later, the little ones' Thursday classes finally came, and when Vegeta entered the training hall, accompanied by the two noisy boys, Piccolo's frustration, which had kept him under control throughout the day, was swept away.

Vegeta gave him a slightly tense smile, but before Piccolo could concentrate on the other man, he had to do his duty first. Only when the class had started smoothly did he allow himself a private moment with the older man (until recently, such behaviour would have been unthinkable for him, but it showed how quickly even a dutiful person like Piccolo could forget his principles given the allure the rock star represented – much to his annoyance). Always aware of the other people in the room, Piccolo sat next to Vegeta on their now almost traditional place on the bench at the head of the hall.

“You're so nervous,” Piccolo stated softly while his watchful gaze swept through the room. But then, he eventually looked at the older man. “Is it... is it about last night?” he asked, suddenly insecure. 

When Vegeta saw this incredibly vulnerable look in Piccolo's eyes, he wanted nothing more thatn to take him into his arms, and kiss him until he'd forgotten all insecurities because of lack of oxygen. Since he couldn't do that at the moment though, he shuffled a little closer to Piccolo, and grabbed his hand unobtrusively.

“It's not that. Believe me.” He squeezed tighter to cheer the younger man up. “It's because of Noriko,” he then confessed. 

Confused, Piccolo frowned. “What's Noriko got to do with it?”

“When I left this morning, she was there already of course, and I had to pass her.”

Piccolo wasn't sure if he should laugh or be shocked. Noriko wasn't stupid, and therefore would immediately realise why Vegeta left her employer's flat at nine-thirty in the morning.

“Maybe that thought is too erroneous for her, and she simply doesn't want to accept the truth,” Piccolo suggested which Vegeta answered with a grumbling noise. 

“Hopefully.” On the other hand, she would hardly believe that her ascetic boss had been drinking with her rock star idol all night, so there was no other conclusion she could come to otherwise, but Vegeta didn't say that out loud.

“And... and if not?” the younger man asked, overcome by sudden uncertainty. “If she does believe it?”

“Hmpf. She will hardly run to the press.”

_Oh please no. That would be a disaster,_ Piccolo thought, and he pressed Vegeta's hand harder. But out of fear.

“She wouldn't do that,” Piccolo tried to calm them both shakily.

A shiver ran down Vegeta's back when he heard the naked fear in Piccolo's voice, although he tried to hide it.

He glanced sideways at Piccolo's profile who stared straight ahead.

_What are you so afraid of?_ he asked himself for the dozenth time, but he still couldn't find an explanation. Vegeta tried to reassure himself that there was a harmless and plausible reason for Piccolo's fear of the press, but there was one last remnant of doubt that he couldn't push into the back of his mind.

They didn't have much time together in their small, secluded bubble amidst all the other people before Piccolo had to take care of his students again. Vegeta watched the rest of the training a bit inattentively, and though reluctantly, the two men separated for the time being.

Piccolo thought he would wake up just after sunrise like he did every morning, but when he checked his watch that morning, he was startled to find it was past ten. Cursing, he shook off his tiredness, and jumped out of bed. His classes didn't start until one o'clock, but he was annoyed that his whole routine was confused again. No wonder. After all, he had been awake the night before, thinking of Vegeta. It was only at such a late hour that he had found the time to even think about himself and Vegeta; the rest of the previous day, he just hadn't been able to find time to do so, especially when he had felt Vegeta's piercing gaze in his back for the duration of the training lesson. The fact that he missed the other man after he drove away with the children after class did not help him to fall into a restful sleep. Even now he missed him, and he wished he could have woken up next to his lover.

Angrily, he shook his head and tried to let a hot shower wash away his thoughts. After all, he had to keep his senses together today if he wanted to train again with Tenshinhan for the World Martial Arts Tournament. And tonight, they would fly to the Papaya Islands together. So, the topic of Vegeta would have to be put on hold for a few days anyway. He doubted that he would see the other man again... The amount of time until next Tuesday seemed like an eternity ...

As soon as he got out of the shower, his routine was thrown off the rail for good when he suddenly heard the front door slam shut. Amazed, he entered the living room where he ran into a heavily packed Vegeta.

“B-but,” he stammered. “What... How...”

“Noriko,” the other man helpfully replied to his stuttering, and let Noriko's spare keys that dangled from his little finger slide onto the hallway table next to the door. Then, he was off in the direction of the kitchen. “Apparently my workday starts much earlier than yours,” Vegeta needled him, and Piccolo could almost hear the grin in his voice, even if not see it.

He snorted piquantly, but preferred not to reply. Instead, he followed Vegeta to see what he was doing in his kitchen.

“Why is Noriko giving you a key to my apartment?” he asked absentmindedly while watching Vegeta.

Vegeta paused and gave him a cheeky look over his shoulder. “It seems that we have an ally who thinks our relationship is hopelessly romantic once she'd gotten over the shock and her plans to  murder you.”

“ What !?” Piccolo called, horrified, without reacting to Vegeta's joke. “So, she really knows?!”

Vegeta shrugged. “Doesn't matter. She would do anything for you and especially for me. We can rely on her discretion,” he said confidently, and then turned back to the box he had brought with him that he had left on the kitchen counter. It was unpacked in no time, and he hoisted a coffee machine out of it.

Piccolo was, to put it mildly, baffled – not to mention that thing with Noriko which he really didn't want to think about at for the moment. Instead, he watched Vegeta speechlessly as he connected the coffee machine and deposited a can of ground coffee in the kitchen cupboard next to his tea. Apparently, for Vegeta, this coffee machine in Piccolo's household seemed to define the limits of their relationship, namely, that Vegeta apparently was really damn serious. This amused him deeply, but it also moved and frightened him at the same time. Not only was Vegeta afraid to screw up their relationship, Piccolo was also worried. How would he know how a relationship worked if he'd never had one.

“Do you wanna tell me something with that?” he asked again just to be on the safe side.

“Yes, I want to tell you with that that you don't want to see me without having had any coffee in the morning. That one time, I can make do with coffee candies, but not for good.” 

“For good,” Piccolo echoed stupidly, and felt like a complete idiot. 

“Yep,” Vegeta dedeclared cheekily, and advanced on Piccolo. “For good.” He raised himself on tiptoes, and kissed his perplexed lover. 

For a moment, Piccolo stood there, idle and as if frozen, but one touch from Vegeta's lips to his send a pleasantly tingling warmth through his whole body, causing him to move again. Reliefed, he wrapped his arms around the smaller man, and pulled him close. 

As if Vegeta had been waiting for Piccolo's reaction, he wrapped his arms around him and passionately deepened their kiss.

“What was that about taking it slow?” Piccolo gasped as he managed to pull away a few millimetres from Vegeta's hungry lips.

“Forget what I said yesterday, I was deprived of caffeine,” the older man replied, and then immediately bridged the distance between them to kiss Piccolo demandingly while removing the annoying towel from around Piccolo's waist.

“How...” Piccolo started breathlessly after their lips parted for a few millimetres. “How does a normal relationship fit into a rock star's life? I always thought...”

“What? Sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll? ” Vegeta smiled. “The first two are a thing of the past. Our wild years are long gone even though the press supposedly knows better than we do in that aspect.”

“Mmhm. Orgies after the concerts...”

“I told, that's in the past. We are getting older, too. Nowadays the boys are content with only one woman per man and a little alcohol. Nothing harder anymore.”

Both grinned with amusement, but then they got serious again.

“And you?”

“Hm... Even an aging rock star has his needs, but...” Vegeta shrugged. “I should start setting other priorities. And therefore, I have no concerns that I can combine work and private life.”

Piccolo noticed how his heart started to beat faster with the intense, meaningful look Vegeta gave him . “Good to know,” Piccolo whispered, overwhelmed.

“Hmhm.” Without breaking their intense eye contact, Vege ta directed them in the direction of the sofa where he pushed Piccolo into the cushions decidedly. Relaxed, he lay down on the muscular, larger body, the elegant pallor of which stood in strong, seductive contrast to the black leather on which he lay. He tenderly stroked Piccolo's face as he looked at it thoughtfully. “We're so much alike,” he whispered. “With you, I feel...” Vegeta shook his head, frustrated at not being able to express what he was feeling. “I don't know... It's like I finally know where I belong. Here, at your side...” His face twisted into a pained laugh. “That sounds horrible, doesn't it?”

Piccolo looked up to him seriously, and shook his head. “No. It sounds right.”

Vegeta left before breakfast to give Piccolo time prepare for the training with Tenshinhan. The younger man had to force himself concentrate on his pupil's important training instead of still thinking of Vegeta. Fortunately, Tenshinhan was so occupied with his training – and was probably lost in his own thoughts about tomorrow – that he didn't notice Piccolo's absent-minded state. 

Drenched with sweat, and breathing heavily, the two men bowed before each other before nodding with satisfaction. 

“I am very proud of you, Tenshinhan,” Piccolo couldn't help but state. “I am confident that you will win tomorrow.”

Actually, he shouldn't support Tenshinhan's participation at this mass spectacle. Because when he won – and he would –, the ensuing media circus that would inevitably run riot around the new world champion would drag Piccolo as his master into the public spotlights as well. Fortunately, the young man didn't the reason for his master's reluctance. But after tomorrow... Piccolo ardently hoped that his secret would maybe kept secret regardless. Because he couldn't bring himself to forbade Tenshinhan's participation. His pupil had worked so hard for it, and he deserved the recognition for his outstanding talents.

A real if small smile made itself onto Tenshinhan's lips when he heard his master's praise. “Thank you, master. This means a lot to me.”

“Go now and pack your thinks. We'll meet at the airport tonight.”

“Yes, master.”

Early on Sunday morning, Vegeta had woken with an idea stuck in his head which was why he now marched down the hallways of Capsule Corp. looking for his son. 

“Hey Trunks.”

Questioningly, the ten-year-old looked at his father who just marched into the living room.

“What would you say to a quick trip to the Papaya islands?!

The boy's gaze told of his confusion for a moment, but then, his face brightened. “Dad!” he cried, euphoric. “The martial arts world champion ships are there. Piccolo is there with Tenshinhan!”

“I know,” Vegeta confirmed with a smug grin. “And since it has it advantages being me, I hadn't any problems getting hold of some cards at the last moment despite being the semifinals and the final today.” 

As an answer, by now pretty strong arms wrapped around his waist, and he looked down into a pair of bright blue eyes. “That's so cool, Dad,” Trunks whispered happily.

Not even twenty minutes later, they were at the airport, and boarded Capsule Corps. private jet. The flight didn't take long, but Vegeta suffered nonetheless. On the one hand, it was absurdly because he couldn't wait to see Piccolo again, but on the other hand, his son was another reason who was so excited as if on a sugar high. Trunks couldn't sit still for even two minutes, and therefore not only strained Vegeta's nerves but that of the stewardess as well whose ability to stoically endure the chipper boy with a constantly friendly smile had Vegeta in awe of her. In the end, it was him who lost it, and got his son high on lemonade and chocolate to finally get him to calm down – which worked surprisingly well even if it wasn't quite in they boy's mother's sense of pedagogical education sense. In favour of chocolate, Trunks didn't utter one more noise any more until they landed. 

After they'd climbed into the taxi to the stadium, it was Vegeta who was slowly mutating into a jittery child, which his son cheekily commented on with a precocious lecture. Apparently, Vegeta's cool masquerade was not quite as waterproof as it usually was. At least Trunks saw through him immediately, even if he didn't want to tell the boy _why_ he was so excited. To be honest, he didn't really know himself. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he last saw Piccolo, but somehow, this encounter would be differ hugely from a meeting in the martial arts master's apartment where they were alone. Here, they were both in public, and it certainly wouldn't take long for the press to get wind of his presence.

But he didn't want to reveal his relationship for anything in the world. The time he spent with Piccolo, even if it had only been a few hours so far, was too precious to him. These moments belonged only to the both of them and wasn't anyone's business. At the moment, even when and how to tell Trunks wasn't at the forefront of his mind. The boy shouldn't, of course, get wind of his father's relationship from the newspapers, therefore, he had to be really careful. A lingering bit of rationality in the back of his head whispered to him that he should at least wait and see if anything even came from their relationship, but – and he didn't just say that because he saw things through rose-coloured glasses – he felt that it would be fine, they were meant for each other, even if he had never believed in anything so kitschy before.

Before either one had the chance to wrack their brains, the taxi dropped them off in front of the stadium. Father and son made their way through the throngs of people who, at the moment, lingered in the area before the stadium where countless booths were set up offering refreshments and souvenirs. After passing through this section, it became a little less crowded.

“Can we go visit the fighters, Dad?” Trunks excitedly asked, and pointed in the direction of a walled area whose passageway was guarded by a couple of monks. 

“I'm afraid they won't let us pass. Only participants are allowed there. Not even the trainers have access.”

Disappointed, Trunks' shoulders drooped.

“Come one. Let's find our box. I'm sure we'll meet Goten there.”

The prospect of seeing his best friend cheered Trunks up a bit, even when he had dared to come here without him (that, actually, he was grounded because he was supposed to work on a school project, he overlooked graciously, and he had to promise to work hard on the project the following week, but that would be a small price to pay for being here). 

After someone had pointed them in the right direction, Vegeta and Trunks went to their seats a far way off the backstage area.

“Vegeta? Trunks?”

Vegeta spun around when he heard the familiar voice of his lover who could only stare at them in surprise. A small smile graced his lips. “Surprise,” he grinned.

“Good day, Master.” Reverently, Trunks bowed before Piccolo who reciprocated in kind. Vegeta scrutinised his son with wide eyes. 

“Ehm, where are your seats?” the Martial Arts master asked who seemed to slowly recover from the pleasant shock of meeting them here, obviously at a loss for something else to say. That “what are you doing here?” was a bit too obvious which even Piccolo noticed in his shocked state. Therefore, he bit back the words.

“Upstairs in one of the boxes. Right next to Gohan's.” 

Piccolo nodded, a little more composed now. “I've seen him already. I'm happy that he has come.”

“He can't let his wife know, of course, but he keeps his fingers crossed for Tenshinhan,” Vegeta grinned gleefully. Piccolo responded accordingly. “And you?” Vegeta asked.

“Oh, me... They have an area that's reserved for the trainers and masters. He somehow didn't look too happy about the fact. 

“I see...” Vegeta fidgeted a bit, and, uncharacteristically shy, looked up to the younger man. “If you want, you can come with us?”

“Oh yes, please, Master!” Trunks butted in enthusiastically. “That would be so cool.” Begging, he looked from one man to the other. 

Piccolo hesitated visibly, and although Vegeta would have loved to be with him during the tournament, he couldn't keep one little fact from him. “We wouldn't be alone up there, though,” he explained softly. “Gohan's family's got a private box, but we'll have to share ours with others. I've no idea who'll be there, but I'm sure the press will linger around there somewhere.”

Piccolo grimaced, and nodded jerkily. “I understand. Then probably not.”

“Hm...”

“But we can meet for lunch later if you want,” Piccolo offered instead because he couldn't bear Vegeta's – and Trunks' – disappointed face. Immediately the expression of father and son brightened up again.

“Sure,” Vegeta replied as nonchalantly as possible. “We'll pick you up, alright?”

Piccolo nodded. “I should...” He hesitated.

“Yes, we too... Trunks, why don't you go ahead.”

Trunks nodded, but before he stormed away like a delighted whirlwind, he politely bowed before Piccolo. “See you later, Master.” And with that, he was gone.

The two men stood there for a few undecided moments, keeping silent.

“I suppose, I have to thank you,” Vegeta murmured suddenly in Piccolo's direction, his baffled gaze still fixed onto his son who right this moment stormed through the stadium's entrance leading to the private boxes, past a gob-smacked monk who could only stare at the child waving a VIP pass.

“What are you talking about?”

“Neither his mother nor I ever managed to teach him some manners. You achieved the impossible it seems.”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Piccolo chuckle.

“Apparently, he got his share of some useful genes. From who knows where. I can only claim the credit for having activated them.”

Vegeta glared at Piccolo in a mock-pout who didn't kept a straight face though. “And my genes aren't useful or what?!”

The corners of Piccolo's mouth twitched. “Your words, not mine.”

“Pfft. Whatever. I'm off now. See ya.”

and with that, Vegeta stormed away in a not really serious huff, Piccolo's amused laugh ringing in his ears even when he had rounded the nearest corner.

“Eight. Nine Ten! Unbelievable! Mr. Satan lost! Tenshinhan is our new world champion!”

The referee's voice almost cracked in his enthusiastic hysteria proclaiming the new world champion of Martial Arts.

Vegeta and Trunks grinned at each other while shocked silence rang through the rest of the stadium before deafening applause broke lose.

“Let's go downstairs, and see if we can intercept him to congratulate him.” 

Vegeta stood up, and left the box with his son in tow. Hurriedly, they jogged down the steps so they avoided a completely devastated or furious Videl. However, father and son caught a glimpse of Goten who had prudently fled his sister-in-law's box. The boy threw them a victorious grin full of glee as big as the ones gracing Vegeta and Trunks' features. 

“Poor Gohan,” Vegeta chuckled. 

“Goten, you coming with us to see Tenshinhan?” Trunks called out to him, but the other boy shook his head regretfully. 

“They'll come looking for me, and will become worried. And I won't go in there again to tell them I'm with you though,” he explained with a heavy sigh. “Videl can be pretty scary.”

Not only Videl, Vegeta thought who couldn't help but drawing baffling parallels between Gohan's wife and his mother.

“Pity, then I'll see you later,” Trunks replied, disappointed which Goten commented with an equally as disappointed gaze.

Trunks' disappointment quickly disappeared though when they first collected Piccolo – who was almost bursting with pride, but desperately trying not to let it show –, and then followed the ecstatic crowd who rushed in the direction of the backstage area in the high hopes to catch a glimpse of their new world champion as well as the old champion. 

Thanks to Piccolo's presence, they could pass the barrier to the backstage area, and soon, they'd found Tenshinhan who was surrounded by a bunch of reporters already. Tenshinhan's face brightened with a certain amount of relief when he spotted his master and Vegeta. He squeezed through the reporters, and hurried over to them. He and Piccolo exchanged an intense gaze, both men glowing with pride, and they came to a mutual, silent agreement that they would talk later, as soon as they had a little more privacy. Since Vegeta on the other hand hadn't any problems to lead a normal conversation even with a pack of reporters hounding him, stepped forward to congratulate Tenshinhan. They shook hands before Trunks begged for Tenshinhan's attention like a over-excited puppy. The reporters took advantage of this to get their hands on Vegeta.

“Vegeta!” one of the reporters called who had managed to make himself heard above his colleagues. “Are you here alone or are the rest of  _ The Saiyans _ present as well?”

Vegeta, who was annoyed that he inadvertently stole the new world champion's show, shuffled a little closer to Tenshinhan again, and at the same time pushed Trunks a little behind him who prepared himself to bolt. “My son and I are only here to cheer on his martial arts trainer, our new world champion.”

For a few seconds, the reporters stared at Vegeta, gobsmacked. Vegeta used this rare pause. 

“I am very proud that my son learns the martial arts from such a talented young man whose skills spoke for themselves today.” With that, he clapped Tenshinhan's back appreciatively, once more shook his hand for the flashing cameras, and then wreathed from the reporters' clutches surrounding him. A little guilty, he looked back to Tenshinhan whom he once more left in the reporters' clutches, but that was something he had to deal with on his own from now on. The reporters and photographers who knew his moods only too well, let him go undeterred, and instead turned back to the new world champion of martial arts. 

Vegeta, relieved to be out of the turmoil, spotted Piccolo and Trunks in the shadow of a tree.

“Sometimes, I hate my job!” he grumbled with a sigh when he reached the two which they only acknowledged with a catty snicker. 

Affronted, Vegeta looked from one to the other, spun around, and ditched his son and his lover.

“Now he's sulking again,” Trunks giggled.

“He'll calm down eventually.”

“Sure. Only, sometimes, he's a right diva and worse than Mum.”

“Maybe that's part of a rock star's life,” Piccolo speculated, and looked down at Trunks with a chuckle. 

Grinning, the boy looked up to him. “That would explain everything.”

Fortunately, the next time they met, things had calmed down somewhat. The school was free of any lingering reporters what was probably owed to the fact that Tenshinhan was doing a world tour to... do whatever you had to do as new world champion of martial arts. At least this suited Vegeta – and Piccolo even more – perfectly. Because after he had dropped off the boys at home, he hastily returned to Piccolo who was already expecting him at the entrance of the school so that he could close up behind him. When they ascended the steps to the flat, delicious scents of food wafted down to Vegeta, which made him realise only now how hungry he was. 

Relieved, he lowered himself onto the barstool in the kitchen, and gratefully lay into the meal Piccolo put before him. 

Chuckling and with more restraint, Piccolo started eating as well. 

After dinner, Vegeta finally found the time to dedicate himself to his lover, now that his ravenous hunger was satisfied. But somehow, Piccolo acted strange. He was uncharacteristically nervous and hesitant.

“I...” he began, but aborted the sentence. 

Keenly, Vegeta watched as Piccolo avoided his gaze, but seemed to have come to a decision after all after a few contemplative moments. He rummaged around in his trouser pocket, and pulled something forth that he held out to Vegeta. He even dared to look the other man in the eye.

Questioningly, Vegeta held Piccolo's gaze while accepting the object. Surprised, he stopped short when he realised what he held in his hand – it was a small iron ring with two keys on it. 

“Is that...”

Piccolo blushed heavily, but straightened his spine bravely, raised his chin, and nodded. 

After his shock had abided after a few minutes during which Piccolo had become increasingly more nervous, irrational happiness spread through him. On the inside, he would have loved to giggle like a little boy that had got the best present of his life. On the outside, he miraculously kept his countenance. But nonetheless, he couldn't bite back the grateful smile as well as the enthusiastic, passionate kiss for which he pulled his lover down. While the kiss lasted, he kept the keys tightly wrapped inside his fist – symbolically the equivalent to the coffee maker deposited in Piccolo's kitchen. 

Actually, he didn't think he had been very silent when he entered the flat, but Vegeta nonetheless marvelled that he was surprised by complete silence. Puzzled, he first went into the bedroom although he really couldn't imagine that the martial arts master was asleep in the middle of the day. He stopped in the entrance completely baffled. Piccolo indeed was in bed, but not to sleep. Cross-legged, he sat in the middle of the mattress, only dressed in gi-trousers, and meditated. Interested, Vegeta drank in Piccolo's completely relaxed face. No muscle moved, not even the younger man's eyes moved behind his closed lids. But despite his relaxed mien, he radiated incredible concentration and body control. It was the same as when Vegeta watched him fight – complete control and yet graceful sleekness and effortlessness. 

The sight send pleasant shudders through Vegeta's body, and he could have stood here for hours simply watching Piccolo. That, or he wouldn't have had anything against a completely different kind of training. But he couldn't bring himself to disturb his lover's meditation even if he'd loved nothing more than to pounce on him. After all, he'd shown up here unannounced, and didn't have the right to turn Piccolo's habits upside down. Therefore, he respected his occupation, and waited. After all, he had time, and the sight being presented to him was a sight to behold.

A few minutes later, Piccolo opened his eyes, and fixed his penetrating gaze onto Vegeta. Of course he'd noticed the other man's presence some time ago already.

“Sorry,” he broke the comfortable silence they were wrapped in, “that I didn't give you my attention sooner, but I'm not used to it yet to have somebody to share my private life with now.”

Slowly, Vegeta crossed the room, and crawled onto the bed. The younger man immediately wrapped him in his arms, and they sank back. Relaxed, the two men simply lay pressed close together in bed, seemingly forever. Words weren't necessary between them, and they didn't need anything right now apart from each.

This has to be perfect happiness, Piccolo thought, and closed his eyes contentedly. To be truthful, he'd never understood all this ruckus, why everybody went out of their way to find the perfect partner, the One. Until this moment. To hold this man in his arms, and getting a taste of what such happiness meant suddenly made it easy to understand why some people searched their whole lives for just one moment like this.

At ease, Vegeta closed his eyes as well, and was in danger of dozing off in Piccolo's arms. It's been ages that he'd done this with a lover. Cuddling was something you simply didn't do with a one-night-stand. Too personal to do this with a person you didn't really know.

Involuntarily, Vegeta screwed up his face while he listened to Piccolo's heartbeat. Wasn't this the same? Only because he slept with this man for a few weeks, and having strong feelings for him didn't mean that he was any closer to working him out than before. Or that he knew him. Vegeta still itched to lift the secret that surrounded the young martial arts master, and he surely had his ways to get the necessary information. But he didn't dare to. He just knew that his lover wouldn't like it when Vegeta poked around in his life behind his back, betraying him like that. Instead, he forced himself to wait until Piccolo was ready to tell him of his own free will. This vote of confidence from Vegeta was incredibly important to the young man, Vegeta knew that.

He tightened his hold around Piccolo's waist. His feelings for Piccolo had become so strong by now that he was even prepared to accept that Piccolo would never tell him. He knew that it burdened his young lover; that some dark passed threw a shadow onto his life which was why he hid here in this school, and which was why he had never explained about the countless scars on his back of his own account. Vegeta would have loved to help him leave behind whatever it was ‒ and he was really curious if he was honest ‒, but he realized that Piccolo's wellbeing was most important to him in this situation. And that included that he would tell him when he was ready. And if it never happened, that was fine, too.

It was astonishing how much of Vegeta's selfish nature had changed for the better in such a short time just because of Piccolo.

Fortunately, Vegeta currently had a fairly empty schedule, so he could spend more time with Piccolo. He even had so much free time that, after they had just lazed around this afternoon, he didn't have to go again in the evening for an appointment, but could stay all night and even a good part of the morning. With wise foresight, he had packed some things that he was now depositing in Piccolo's bathroom.

After a relaxed dinner together and an evening on the sofa, the two men decided to go to bed early and see how the night would develop.

Vegeta was just getting ready for bed when he paused in his motions. His hand came to an abrupt stop just inches away from his toothbrush. A shiver went through him, of which he could not say whether it filled him with satisfaction or with fear. Because this little innocent object made clear to him something that he had actually known for a long time now, but which apparently hadn't really broken through to his consciousness yet: that he was really serious about Piccolo. They weren't empty words, not a spontaneous decision on his part. He was more serious than ever in his life. Didn't they say that once you put your own toothbrush in someone else's flat that a relationship went into the next round? And he wanted this next round, whatever it looked like. He just realised that he was definitely considering spending the rest of his life with this man. And that scared him shitless.

But maybe his subconscious had known what his mind was only now becoming aware of; maybe his heart had known since he left the coffee machine here...

“Oh God,” he moaned softly, and hung his head in defeat. Overwhelmed by his sudden realisation, he roughly raked his fingers through his hair, and propped himself up on the sides of the sink on his elbows. 

“What happened?” Piccolo's worried voice reached his ears as if through cotton wool.

“Nothing,” he sighed. “Ev'rything's okay.” And he meant it – and it shouldn't have sounded as sarcastic as it seemed to sound. Chuckling, he shook his head, and once more reached for his toothbrush. 

Vegeta found Piccolo in bed, reading, when he came to the school late at night after a concert. He had actually counted on his lover being already asleep and was therefore glad to have been given a key by Piccolo's flat. Therefore, he was surprised to find him awake.

Piccolo looked up and smiled when Vegeta entered the bedroom.

“Sorry. Took longer than I thought.” Vegeta smiled apologetically. 

Piccolo put his book aside, and reached out his hand towards Vegeta expectantly instead of giving an answer. With seductively swinging hips, he came closer to the bed. The younger man let his gaze wander up and down Vegeta's body. He sat up and knelt on the mattress to have more room to get to Vegeta's body. His hands followed his gaze and stroked Vegeta's thigh longingly. All the while, Vegeta looked down at Piccolo with burning eyes, and enjoyed the feeling of the strong hands on his body, sweaty and heated from the concert. After a while, however, both became impatient, and Piccolo's hands moved from Vegeta's muscular legs to his belt buckle to free his beloved from the skin-tight black leather. “You couldn't wear a narrower pair?” he teased as he pulled Vegeta onto the bed, beginning to peel Vegeta out of his trousers. 

“No,” he gasped, and when he'd finally opened the damned trousers, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Wow, I'm feeling my legs again,” he remarked dryly, but could barely come to breath since Piccolo sealed Vegeta's mouth with his, and therefore, for a while, they didn't say anything any more.

“No underwear, I'm shocked,” Piccolo eventually teased against Vegeta's lips while clawing his fingers into the firm flesh of Vegeta's ass, rolling them both around so that he came to lie on Vegeta. Vegeta wrapped his legs around Piccolo's waist when he felt the familiar weight. He returned the challenging grin with a suggestive “Occupational hazard; it's not possible otherwise with such tight trousers.”

“Sure,” Piccolo chuckled, and buried his face in the crook of Vegeta's neck to breath in the scent of musk and sweat – and cigarette smoke; someone of the band smoked like a chimney as he had to notice some time ago –, and when he started nibbling and sucking on Vegeta's neck, the salty taste of the older man's skin exploded on his tongue. After giving his lover a proper hickey, Piccolo wanted to explore more of Vegeta's upper body, but his T-shirt was still in the way. Impatiently, he pulled the shirt from Vegeta's body, and threw it carelessly over the edge of the bed. He took a moment to look at his now completely naked lover. The sight of the firm muscles straining under bronze-colored skin was always an exciting sight that he couldn't get enough of. Almost as if in a craze, he went for Vegeta to explore every inch of exposed skin with his fingers and mouth.

But that didn't seem enough to Vegeta. As much as he squirmed pleasantly under Piccolo's loving ministrations, he still needed more. “Could you maybe finally get down to business!” he commanded crisply, and arched his pelvis and hard erection suggestively towards Piccolo to give the other man a leg up.

“Oh, you can still complain,” Piccolo chuckled. “I really have to make an effort.”

“Would be a good idea, yeah,” Vegeta taunted, and decided to start actively participating in all the fun. 

He didn't know who had rolled them around, but suddenly, Piccolo lay on his back, and he looked up at Vegeta who straddled his waist. Vegeta looked down at him with a mischievous glitter in his eyes when he suddenly grasped Piccolo's erection before he took him inside of himself. He moaned throatily when the hot shaft breached him, and Piccolo's hands flew to Vegeta's hips. Desperately, he clawed his fingers into strained muscles.

“What... how,” he gasped in shock, and the only thing he could do in that moment was trying not to forget to breathe, and clinging to Vegeta when almost unbearable heat and tightness gripped him. 

A few moments, Vegeta took in deep breaths while he got used to the burning sensation of being stretched almost to the limits, but then, he winked at Piccolo cheekily. “I don't come uprepared. Excuse the pun.” 

“Then,” Piccolo gasped, “then the trousers can't have been so tight when you managed to get them off earlier.” 

“Oh please. I have long experience in dressing, and especially undressing in such trousers. And now shut up.”

For once, Piccolo obeyed, and completely surrendered to Vegeta. His hands, still seeking purchase, had been resting on Vegeta's hips until now, but now, he eagerly drew them over the sweat-glistening upper body while the older man started moving with the rhythm of their passion above him. His hands came to rest on Vegeta's chest, and with his thumbs he caressed the dark nipples that stood, small and hard, in contrast to the bronze-coloured skin. Vegeta let out a stifled gasp, and dug his fingers into Piccolo's chest.

The only noise inside the room were their loud, panting breahts and the soft rustling of the bedding as they both moved. 

Piccolo suddenly sat up, and once more clasped Vegeta's hips to support him. He just had to be even closer, had to feel every centimetre of heated skin he could reach. He pressed his chest against Vegeta's. In the meantime, he couldn't take his gaze from Vegeta. The older man had closer his eyes, and seemed to be completely lost in their lovemaking; he didn't notice anything else any more. A small crease had made its way between Vegeta's brows, and for a moment, it looked to Piccolo as if he was in pain, as if the pleasure sizzling through his body too much for him. Instinctively, Piccolo wrapped his arms around Vegeta, and held him tight since he couldn't bear seeing the other man so helpless, to see him so completely captivated and disbanded by his ecstasy without any control over his actions. He wanted to protect him. From everything. If need be, even from himself.

Sleepy as if on auto-pilot, Vegeta continually caressed Piccolo's hip while watching his lover closely. The silver moonlight spilling through the window gave enough light to make out Piccolo's form clearly. The younger had closed his eyes, but Vegeta knew him to be still awake. He drew in a shaky breath, and shuffled a little closer to Piccolo. His hand stopped on Piccolo's hip, and he let it glide up searchingly until he had wrapped his arm around Piccolo's upper body protectively, his hand resting on the silver scars on Piccolo's back which he started to caress as well now. 

“I love you,” Vegeta whispered suddenly. In that moment, he couldn't help himself even if he had seen it as a mistake. 

This soft confession made Piccolo snap his eyes open again. Surprised, he returned Vegeta's gaze who seemed calm and collected on the outside. But Piccolo knew Vegeta so well by now that he noticed the insecure gleam in the black eyes, the small crease having buried itself between his eyebrows once more, all of which indicated his nervousness. Vegeta's hand on his back paused the moment Piccolo had opened his eyes. Now, the younger reached for it, and brought it to his lips. Gently, he kissed the knuckles while holding Vegeta's gaze with his own. Afterwards, he let their entwined hands sink down onto the mattress, and he leaned forwards to kiss Vegeta.

“Me too,” he whispered against Vegeta's mouth, and drank in his warm breath.

The sun had only risen, yet still Vegeta was wide awake, much to his chagrin. After all, it had been quite late yesterday, and he had one Hell of a hangover from his gig. Maybe he became old. How embarrassing. 

The only good thing about him being awake this early was that Piccolo was awake already as well who was a habital early riser.

“What happened to you?” Piccolo needled good-naturedly. “Older people don't seem to need that much sleep any more, hm?”

Vegeta glared at him, and grumbled something under bated breath. 

Piccolo ignored his grumbling, and instead laughed at him. He sat up to, impertinently awake, leave the bed when he suddenly spied Vegeta's pretty worn guitar case by the door. Since Vegeta had never been here after a gig, Piccolo had no idea if it was normal for Vegeta to carry around this old case because surely, in there wasn't his normal stage guitar. Piccolo had seen that case once. Questioningly, he looked at Vegeta who only shrugged, and sat up as well. “I have it with me during concerts most of the time. My electric guitar is, together with the other instruments, bagged by our manager. He insured those things as high as possible, and guard them like gold. Only my fingers are even higher insured.” Vegeta grinned, and pointed at the worn guitar case. “This one was my first back then, and I take it with me for good luck, and to pass the time.” 

“Would you play something for me?”

Surprised, Vegeta looked at his lover, but then, he nodded, and stood up to get the guitar. While the older man was busy unpacking the guitar, Piccolo enjoyed the fantastic sight he had of the muscular, naked body.

Lovingly, Vegeta retrieved the guitar from its case, and carried it back to the bed. For a moment, he stopped in front of it to drink in the sight of his sleepily stretching lover. The morning sun's rays fell onto Piccolo's soft, white skin, and made it shine. Vegeta thought he faced an unearthly creature in that moment, so grand was the magnificence before him. 

Smiling, he shook his head, and perched on the foot of the bed. Straightaway, he felt Piccolo's arms wrap around his waist, and his lover propped his chin on to Vegeta's shoulder to watch him play. For a short time, he tuned his instrument before he strummed the first cords. Piccolo quickly noticed that the outwardly so tough rock star seemed to have fondness for more traditional music in private. Piccolo liked this side of Vegeta. It made him feel like he owned a piece of Vegeta that nobody else had. “Don't you want to sing for me as well?” Piccolo murmured while caressing his lover's neck and cheek with his lips.

Vegeta snorted, amused. “Better not. Why do you think I play the guitar? I can't hold a single note.”

“Hm, same goes for the guitar it seems,” the younger teased while pressing his naked body against Vegeta's back who, because of the delightful distraction, only produced more off key notes. 

The other man gritted his teeth, and stilled his fingers on the strings of his guitar for a moment. “And whose fault is that?” he gasped, and had to make an effort to suppress a moan when Piccolo's immensely talented fingers wandered over his whole body; a sinful imitation of Vegeta's fingers on the guitar strings.

“You have to learn not to be distracted by outside influences,” Piccolo whispered into his ear so that Vegeta had to grit his teeth feeling Piccolo's warm breath on the side of his face. 

“Yes, master,” he pressed forth with difficulty, and indeed stubbornly tried to ignore Piccolo to concentrate on his playing. But it didn't want to work all that well. He didn't have Piccolo's masterful self-control, and to be truthful, he didn't want to in this moment. 

Abruptly, he rested his trembling fingers on the strings, and craned his head until he could reach Piccolo's lips. “I'll show you control,” he hissed, and pressed his mouth onto Piccolo's demandingly. 

Restlessly, Vegeta's finger nervously tapped on the glass of the glass of champagne he held. The party grated on him since it had began. The champagne was weak (but since it was a gala, the harder stuff wasn't available yet) and the guests were obnoxious – obnoxiously cheerful. He couldn't stand overly cheerful people under normal circumstances, but at the moment, everything drove him up the wall. Granted, it may be because he standing around completely on his own (the band didn't count). With every passing minute, he regretted more and more to have told Piccolo that he couldn't spend Mr.-Satan-Day with him because he had been invited to this blasted party. They hadn't been  _ sad _ per se since they both didn't give a shit about this so called holiday – really, who cared about fireworks that were only ignited to celebrate a loser who had been lucky once in his life, and beating a dangerous terrorist only because he had been at the right place at the right time. It was a day like every other, but the more Vegeta spend among these rich, shallow party-goers, the more did he year to return home – and wasn't that interesting; he already saw the school as his home. They never met at Vegeta's, only ever at the school, and somehow, Vegeta didn't have any desire to meet somewhere else. When he was at Piccolo's, he always got a feeling of being in another world, in a peaceful world where reality couldn't bother them. The better he got to know this world, the more he started to resent the one he lived in.

And all of a sudden, he'd had enough. Determined, Vegeta put down his glass on the tablet of the next waiter passing by, and steered in the direction of the exit. Nobody would miss him here anyway, and the band was busy with their female fans.

Instead of through the front entrance that was besieged with reporters, he escaped through the kitchens out of the back entrance. Not even five minutes later, he sat in his car, and was on his way to Piccolo's. 

His lover looked up at him with big eyes when Vegeta entered the flat some time later, and he rose to meet him halfway.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, puzzled. “I thought...”

Vegeta shrugged casually. “The party was boring. Why should I waste my time there.”

The corners of Piccolo's mouth quirked knowingly, but he didn't confront Vegeta any more. “Have you eaten?” he asked instead.

“Not really.”

“Okay, then come.”

With every minute he was with Piccolo, enjoying a quiet, relaxed dinner together, Vegeta felt himself coming to rest more and more. In the long run, this wouldn't probably fit in so well with his rather loud, exciting and hectic life, but right this moment, he didn't care. He needed this.

He looked up when Piccolo suddenly put his hand onto his arm.

“Are you ready?”

Vegeta looked down intensely onto his plate, shovelled the last bite into his mouth, and nodded. 

“Come with me.” 

Smiling, Piccolo wrapped his fingers around Vegeta's wrist, and pulled him from his chair.

Astonished, Vegeta followed his boyfriend. His astonishment grew when Piccolo led him to a hatch in his pantry that led onto the roof. 

“Ehm, what are you doing?” Vegeta wondered with a laugh, but nonetheless obediently perched onto the roof next to Piccolo. For a moment, he felt uncomfortable sitting balanced up here on the roof, but Piccolo's confident, steadying presence calmed him again. 

“The fireworks'll be starting soon,” Piccolo explained simply, and stared into the distance. 

Vegeta cocked a surprised eyebrow, and stared at Piccolo instead of looking in the direction where, in a few minutes, the fireworks would indeed start above the city.

Right on time at ten o'clock, the first fireworks zipped through the sky, and for a couple of moments, the two men watched the spectacle in silence.

“I'm sorry,” Piccolo said eventually without taking his eyes from the colourful lights. 

“What are you sorry about?” Vegeta wondered, and he actually did look away from the fireworks to look at Piccolo instead. 

“That I monopolise your life so much,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders. “I imagine you'll find me and my life very boring at one point. You're used to so much more exciting things. I don't even take part in your life, but you, on the other hand, do with mine. For me, you didn't go to that party of yours tonight.”

For a moment, Vegeta stared at Piccolo disbelievingly, then, he shook his head. “Idiot,” he said fondly, chuckling. “Do you really think that you somehow force me to be here? Don't get me wrong, you're welcome at any time to take part in my life as well; I don't want to hide our relationship. But I love being here. More and more, I feel how much your world draws me in, and how bored I become on my own.”

“Not in the long run,” Piccolo tried to convince both of them.

“That's something we'll talk about in a few years again, got it?” Stubbornly, Vegeta glared at him from the side.

Piccolo sighed, and lowered his gaze for a moment before he dared to look at Vegeta. “Do you really feel like that?” 

Vegeta rolled his eyes. “No, I'm only saying it to get you into bed,” he stated drily. “Of course I do!” Playfully, he punched Piccolo's arm. “And if the farthest we ever get from this building is sitting on the roof, then that's fine with me. I don't need the world out there.” Okay, it wasn't completely true, but at least ninety-five percent true. For the moment, he neither wanted to give up on Piccolo nor the adrenalin thrill his job gave him. Only time would tell if he could have both or if he had to chose between them one day, but if he had to, he even now knew for sure what – or rather whom – he'd chose.

Piccolo made a non-committal noise, but let the topic rest by placing an arm around Vegeta's shoulders, pulling the older man against his side. Vegeta willing let himself be pulled closer against Piccolo's warm body, and placed his head onto Piccolo's shoulder. 

The two men silently watched the spectacular fireworks display which covered the entire night sky with sparkling, colourful stars.

“Can please someone explain to me why we need them?!” Turning up his nose contemptuously, Vegeta glanced behind him at the half-naked dancers who were rehearsing their choreography to the beat of the song they had just rehearsed.

The others followed his gaze, and frankly couldn't quite understand the reason for his resentment. The view was phenomenal.

Vegeta grunted not very benevolently. “We used to get by without these heathens jumping around in the background. Does our music count at all here?!”

“Who pissed in your morning coffee?!” Grunge wondered, and instinctively took a step back from the pissed off guitarist. “You should find a nice shag again? It calms the nerves.”

Hudson grinned, tortured. “That's the problem. Haven't you noticed how... Oh oh. There she is again.”

All eyes followed Hudson's nod in curiosity.

Vegeta made an exasperated noise, and if he hadn't been sitting on the stage like a sitting duck, so that she had already spotted him, he would have fled.

“Vegeta! Yoo-hoo!” 

He closed his eyes in agony at the sight of the wildly waving mindless thing that was scurrying over to them on her suicide-high-heels.

Out of necessity, he opened his eyes again when Marron stopped in front of him, and had the audacity to plaster herself to him. The fact that his guitar was in the way didn't seem to bother the popstar in the slightes, which even gave her the opportunity to squeeze closer to him behind the instrument.

“Marron,” he pressed through gritted teeth. “Great that you're here. Can we start rehearsing then.”

Marron giggled happily, and didn't even registre the sarcasm in his voice. Merrily, she stomped to her mike, and snatched it up out of the holder so that she could slink back in Vegeta's direction again. 

Exasperated, Vegeta lowered his head, and stared at the strings of his guitare. Ev'rything was better than looking at Marron.

Doggedly, he concentrated on his part and tried to blank out her voice, the squeaky tone of which could only be borne in connection with Hudson's dark baritone. Why was it again this woman was invited to sing with them?

Oh yeah. Because it was the band's 20 th anniversary, and their management was of the high opinion that hip musicians singing a duet with the band would go down well with the audience. Tss. Krillin just had the hots for Marron. That was the only possible explanation why they had to put up with this ungifted daft cow. Vegeta wouldn't have cared if she'd thrown herself at Hudson or Jive, even Grunge. But no. Of course she'd chosen Vegeta as the object of her desires. What's with women of today? Wasn't he a little old for them (not that Piccolo was that much older than all those girls)? He came to the conclusion that it had to be the guitar. For whatever reason, women had the hots for bass players. Maybe he should switch to a less attractive instrument. Triangle for example. 

With a vicious stroke on his guitar, he finished the song, and looked up again.

“Went quite good,” Hudson said, and Marron beamed, even if it hadn't really been a compliment of sorts. “Let's try again from...”

“Hey, there's the TV crew!” Jive suddenly exclaimed which set an premature end to their rehearsal. 

Inwardly, Vegeta moaned. Not them as well. He'd completely forgotten that the television crew of some news channel had announced their presence to exclusively report about the grand anniversary concert's rehearsal.

“Okay guys,” Hudson called. “Five minutes break while I clear up with them what they want to shoot.”

And with that, Hudson jumped from the stage which Vegeta thought completely superfluous. That was Krillin's job. But maybe Hudson just wanted to use his chance to escape Marron, that bastard (she wasn't interested in him anyway; the only one suffering here was Vegeta).

“Hey Vegeta.”

Speak of the devil...

He threw Marron a rather unfriendly look from the corner of his eye. But no matter how harsh he was to her, fascinatingly, she didn't seem to mind one bit.  _ Maybe it's too difficult to comprehend with such a vacuum in one's head _ , he thought snidely, and put his guitar away. 

“I wondered,” she continued without minding that he stared at her darkly, “if we could go out some time.”

_ And here we go _ . He'd seen it coming.

“No,” he answered curtly, and chanced an impatient look over to the television crew. 

Could they fucking please get on with things already?!

Marron blinked, confused. She probably couldn't get that someone turned her down. But she composed herself amazingly quick, and once more beamed at him. She was persistent, Vegeta had to give her that. “You're cute when you're grumpy,” she giggled.

That was something nobody had ever said to him. He felt his jaw almost hitting the floor in shock.

“Don't look like that.” She winked at him cheekily. “I'm serious.”

And with that, she stepped up to him, demandingly cupped his face with her small hands, and kissed him.

This insolence was so unexpected that Vegeta was completely motionless. Shocked, he endured the kiss, and before he could even blink, she'd pulled back from him, winked, and strolled away with seductively swinging hips.

Shocked silence suddenly filled the concert hall. He felt all eyes turned onto him. 

Including the television team...

Shit. They had recorded the whole scene! How much bad luck could one man have?!

Stoically, so as if nothing had happened, Vegeta reached for his guitar. He didn't even have to harshly glare at Hudson so that the guys returned onto the stage. Realising the explosive nature of the situation, _The_ _Saiyan's_ lead singer rushed back onto the stage to continue with their rehearsal without giving off even one comment. 

Vegeta's period of grace was over though when the television crew somehow managed to catch him after rehearsals. 

“No comment,” Vegeta snapped at the reporter who just grinned at him insolently knowing. 

Balling his hands to fists, Vegeta just wanted to go for the man's throat when Krillin intervened.

“What you've seen was just a misunderstanding,” the smaller man explained, and he pointedly avoided looking at Vegeta. During the rehearsals, Vegeta'd felt the man's jealous looks on his person. If it would be up to Vegeta, Krillin could have the stupid brat. 

“I have to say, that was pretty unmistakable a few minutes ago,” the reporter giggled, and, simply disregarding Krillin, shoved the microphone into Vegeta's face again. “Granted, you're a rather unexpected couple, but what's the saying; where love falls...”

Unbelievable. How unprofessional was that guy?

“There's absolutely nothing between me and Marron,” he pressed forth through gritted teeth, endeavoured to use only simple words so that those dumbass would get it eventually. “Like my manager said, it's just been a misunderstanding. I'm still single. There's no one in my life who'd be worth speculating about by lot like you.” 

And with that, he shoved past Krillin and the tv crew in the direction of the exit. Wisely, his bandmates jumped out of his way so that he could leave the building unhindered.

He surged toward his loft at definitely excessive speed. He had to let off steam now. Fuck the neighbours.

In situations like this, it would be handy to be able to fight. It was definitely a very satisfying way to react and get rid off frustrations. Maybe Piccolo could show him a few tricks.

Piccolo...

Guilt suddenly overcame Vegeta, and he promptly drove a bit slower so that he could think in peace without running the risk of wrapping the car around the next tree.

He didn't want to repudiate his lover – and in such a vehement way, too –, but he was just so angry, and after all, Trunks didn't know what was going on between his father and his martial arts master. He didn't know that Vegeta went to bed with men at all (not that he had paraded around his female affairs in public either; he had always kept a very low profile about his private life for Trunks' sake).

He grimaced. He could only hope that Piccolo wouldn't learn about the TV report since he fortunately didn't even own a TV. 


	2. Chapter 2

Piccolo didn't own a TV, but he read the newspapers as Vegeta recalled in shock when he turned up at his lover's flat the next morning for breakfast. 

He found the younger man sitting at the kitchen counter, outwardly completely calm and collected, but the open newspaper laid before him. 

Vegeta had to suppress a guilty wince. Maybe he should have come over to Piccolo last night to confess it all to him rather than learning of the whole mess through the papers – a scenario Vegeta had always wanted to avoid with Trunks.

Straightening his spine bravely, he plunged into battle.

“Hey,” he greeted Piccolo as nonchalantly as possible. “Sorry about this.” He indicated the newspaper. “But the girl simply didn't get the meaning of  _ no _ . For the press, we're the new dream couple of course.” Exasperated, Vegeta rolled his eyes.

“Obviously, you corrected them of that notion immediately,” Piccolo replied. His voice sounded completely emotionless. It made Vegeta shudder.

“Piccolo...”

The cutting look of the younger man that suddenly turned onto Vegeta like a raptor eyeing its prey made him fall silent.

“I believe both of us know perfectly well that this isn't about the kiss,” Piccolo continued mercilessly. “I don't care in the slightest about that brat. Her actions couldn't ever have hurt me as much as your words did.”

Guiltily, Vegeta flinched like a beaten dog. 

“I'm sorry.”

“Wasn't it yourself who assured me a while ago that you didn't want to hide our relationship?”

“It was just a reflex to say that,” Vegeta desperately tried to explain himself, and just to make sure, added another “I'm sorry”. “I wasn't serious about that.”

“Didn't seem like it.”

Piccolo picked up the newspapers again so that they formed a barrier between the two men.

“Vegeta was very adamant to defend his single-status,” Piccolo cited, and with every word he read out loud, Vegeta felt shabbier. 

“I... it. I's only because of Trunks. I don't want him to read some bullshit in the papers. And anyway,” Vegeta spat scornfully, “what business is our relationship to these idiots!”

“Indeed,” Piccolo snapped vehemently, and smacked the newspaper onto the counter before him. He had jumped up, and glared down at the older man. “Obviously, our relationship is no-one's business. You won't even tell your son.”

Vegeta wanted to protest, but Piccolo simply continued.

“I understand that you want to protect him from any false rubbish the press spouts, but I thought we agreed that it's serious between us.”

Extremely hurt, Piccolo shook his head. “Apparently, I was wrong. We don't seem to fit as well together as we thought. You don't fit into my world, and I don't belong in yours even less...”

“Piccolo please!” Vegeta cried who, by now, wasn't above begging. Piccolo's relentless behaviour frightened him to the core. “I'm sorry!”

But Piccolo didn't react to his desperate attempts at apologising. He turned his back on Vegeta, and proudly made his way in the direction of his bedroom. “I want you to leave.”

“Piccolo!” Obviously, he wasn't capable for anything but speaking his lover's name at the moment, desperate and pleading.

“Goodbye, Vegeta.” 

The soft, scraping noise when the shoji slid closed behind Piccolo seemed ominously loud in Vegeta's ears that he got the feeling his eardrum might burst. Helplessly, he stared after Piccolo, but was only met with the sight of the closed shoji.

Despondent, he stood in the middle of the flat for a few minutes, lost, before he shuffled over to the front door. He would fight for Piccolo, but at the moment, his lover was much to agitated to listen rationally to Vegeta.

Swearing violently, Vegeta marched over to the door because the doorbell had rung, and tore the door open. He came eye to eye with Gohan, who didn't really seem surprised at the guitarist's disastrous mood.

“What do you want?”

“I heard what happened.” Gohan shrugged apologetically. 

Vegeta rolled his eyes in irritation. “Great.”

“Can I come in?”

With an indifferent grunt, Vegeta stepped out of the way to let Gohan in. the younger man steered in the direction of the sofa, and plonked himself down on it.

Somehow, both of them felt overcome with a sense of déjà vu. 

With his arms crossed over his chest, Vegeta leaned against the armrest of his armchair, and glared at Gohan. The young man started to squirm nervously under that less than favourable look which was why he hurried to get to the point of his visit. 

“I may know how you could get him back. Or at least, how you could make it clear to him what you feel.”

“Really.” Vegeta sniffed haughtily. “And how the Hell did you learn about us in the first place?!”

“Pfft,” Gohan made mockingly. “I've known him for almost all my life. Even if he can fool the rest of the world, he can't fool me.”

Irrationally, a completely inappropriate jealousy flared up in Vegeta at this familiar relationship.

“Maybe you can imagine how gobsmacked I was when I realised that he is in love. And then, with whom he is in love.” Gohan shrugged. “Anyway, I want to help you both. This whole affair really became a mess, and I understand both of your points of view. But nonetheless, you have to actively do something to clear it up now.” 

Vegeta  bristled indignantly . How flattering that Gohan automatically thought that it was Vegeta's fault – which it was, but Vegeta would rather drop dead than admit that to Gohan of all people. 

“I'm listening,” he growled, and crossed his arms even tighter in front of his chest.

In high spirits, Gohan shuffled to the edge of his seat, and looked up to Vegeta. 

“Your anniversary concert is next week, right. If I can somehow get him to come there, you can sing him a song, and show him in front of the whole world what you feel for him. And when Piccolo realises what you really feel, then he'll forgive you.”

For a few (long) moments, there was only perplexed silence during which the guitarist could only stare at the university lecturer in shock. 

Then Vegeta burst out in a hysterical laughing fit (otherwise, he would have started to cry about Gohan's ridiculous plan).

The younger man pouted, insulted. “I think my plan's pretty brilliant,” he groused.

Vegeta, who had bend over in his laughing fit to hold his stomach, straightened again with some trouble. Brushing tears of laughter from his eyes, he tried to get his breath back. “You definitely watch too many TV dramas, boy!”

Gohan's pout intensified a little. “If you have a better idea...”

Gradually, Vegeta's laughter ebbed away. He really didn't. His plan had been to wait a few days until Piccolo had calmed down so that he could beg for forgiveness then. But when he recalled Piccolo's seriously hurt look that had flashed up behind his stoic mask, then Vegeta wasn't so sure if simply apologising would suffice. Because, to be truthful, Vegeta still couldn't make sense of his lover, and therefore couldn't really assess what went through the martial arts master's mind. If Piccolo had really been serious that he never wanted to see Vegeta again (which he'd made clear for the third time now as Vegeta had tried to call him, and then had been put through to Noriko the fourth time)...

“Okay,” he finally burst out, and he had to suppress a shudder – about the thought to see Piccolo never again as well as what he had agreed to hastily just now.

Gohan's face brightened up again. “Great. I promise you, Vegeta, you won't regret it.”

“Wanna bet,” he grumbled, and turned his disgusted gaze away from Gohan's huge, smug grin.

“The only thing you have to do is find the right song.” Gohan's enthusiastic words still rang in his ears. “You can leave the rest to me.”

Hmpf. The right song. Had the boy ever listened to _The_ _Saiyans_ ' lyrics?!

Pointing out to the young man that his fabulous plan had a little catch was futile. Because, even if Vegeta, for once in his life, would pick up a microphone, and herald a hidden message for all the world to hear, his relationship with Piccolo was still a secret. Opening his heart to Piccolo publicly only made sense when everybody understood what was happening. Because that was what had hurt Piccolo the most; that Vegeta wouldn't stand by their relationship in the public. A  _ secret _ message wasn't really the right thing then.

“Doesn't matter,” Gohan had disagreed vehemently. “Piccolo will understand your message, and he will realise that you are willing to stand by him in public. After that, we'll see. Then, you can tell Trunks in peace. After all, that was the reason you denied your relationship, right? So that he wouldn't learn about it from the newspapers.”

Vegeta had only growled in frustration at that which he couldn't hold back now either, now that he recalled their conversation from yesterday again and again.

His bandmates, whom he had ignored until now successfully, froze abruptly, and threw careful glances Vegeta's way.

“That boy talks way too much,” he grumbled. But maybe, this idiotic plan could work nonetheless...”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing,” Vegeta waved Jive away, and concentrated on the here and now again.

The band threw him sceptical looks, but then, they shrugged, and turned back to the concert's program. 

“We still gotta sort out who'll do the duet of  _ Nothing is over _ with Ami,” Hudson suddenly said. 

The other band member's looked at each other, puzzled. 

“How come?” Jive exclaimed, astonished. “I remember something about you being our lead singer.”

“Well, because I sound horrible together with her,” he admitted insolently and a little crestfallen. 

“Oh hoho,” Grunge giggled. “The grand Maestro admits that his voice is shit!”

“Ass! Only in that one case!”

“Hm, all right, but who's gonna sing it with her? It's no use trying on my part, she won't let me have a go at her afterwards anyway.” 

“I'll do it.” 

They all spun around when Vegeta surprisingly spoke up.

“You?!”

“You see another volunteer?” he growled. He felt himself grow flustered involuntarily, but it was no use. He would have to make this sacrifice after he had a premonition just now. Ami Peach was the solution. Marron had been let go from her contract because of unprofessional behaviour, and instead Ami had been asked. The young singer – of one age with Marron, but much more mature and professional – had accepted immediately with much enthusiasm although the concert would take place in one week already. But they were all pros. For one song, they would manage in that short a time. And this song was what would become Vegeta's salvation. The song's message was perfect for him!

Now, Grunge threw Vegeta a leering “oh-hoho” which the guitarist registered with irritation. “You have the hots for the girl or do you want to reveal a salacious, secret affair through the text? Who's the lucky one?”

Vegeta had to really make an effort to keep himself in check while at the same time, he was amazed that Grunge had even bothered to take any notice of the song's text, let alone understand it. “You're the last one I would tell. Do you think I'd allow you to trample all over this with your mindless mockery?” 

“Wow, someone's serious,” Hudson tried to defuse the situation a little. “If you want, you can have the duet.”

“Hey, he always claims that he can't sing!” Jive protested.

“You know very well that he can if he wants to,” Hudson retorted.

“Hmpf, okay.” Jive shruggled, and started scribbling around in the concert's schedule. “Then it's Vegeta.” He looked at his watch. “Ami wants to be here in half an hour for rehearsals. I'm curious how that will play out.”

Vegeta looked up when, half an hour later, the young woman indeed was led onto the stage by Hudson. The other guys almost tripped over themselves in their attempt to greet the beautiful – but much more intelligent – woman. After she had been introduced to Jive and Grunge, she came over to Vegeta. 

“Hello Ami,” Vegeta greeted the young woman pretty friendly (at least by his standards) since, one, he did want something from here, and second because he actually rather liked her. At least held her in high regards. 

Enthusiastically, and with a beaming smile splitting her pretty face, she grasped his offered hand. “I'm so happy to meet you, Vegeta,” she chirped. “I'm a big fan.”

“Thank you.”

The two then stood facing each other in an increasingly uncomfortable silence (just because he valued her as an artist did not mean that they otherwise had a lot in common or a lot to say to each other), an embarrassed blush spreading across Ami's cheeks. She was still holding Vegeta's hand.

Clearing her throat uncomfortably (and all of a sudden, Vegeta realised why she was so embarrassed; she was smitten with him as well... oh great), she suddenly ripped her hand from his grip so as if she'd burned herself on it.

“I have to admit, I was surprised when Hudson told me that you'll sing the duet with me,” she then said a little nervously to break the silence. 

_ Who wasn't _ , he thought sullenly, but nodded seriously. “I can imagine, but I... had my reasons,” he explained evasively, earning himself a questioning look. “Something personal,” he mumbled. 

“I understand,” she replied, but nonetheless couldn't imagine what he meant. Of course she wouldn't ask him. They barely knew each other, and only because she secretly had the hots for him him didn't mean that she had any right to learn his secrets. On the inside, she had hoped though that he maybe returned her feelings, maybe at least was interested in her, so that that was the reason he had agreed to do the song with her on such short notice. But obviously, his reasons were of a completely different nature – probably reasons of a romantical nature. The heartache was clearly written all over his face, even for a stranger like her (she hoped that this stupid Marron and her embarrassing kiss-assault on Vegeta wasn't at fault for that, but since she had taken Marron's place, it was very likely).

He looked at her. Under different circumstances, he would have looked at her with completely different, admiring eyes. After all, she was a very talented, beautiful and clever young woman, but the only allure she had for him at the moment were the lines of her song with which he hoped to make Piccolo realise how much he cared for the younger man. If he couldn't say it with words face to face, at least he wanted to try this – admittedly more cowardly and incredibly kitschy – way which Gohan had practically forced him to. And if he should have lost Piccolo for good... then he would have to live with it, he tried to tell himself. Deep inside though, he knew that his life was meaningless without Piccolo. He wasn't even scared by this radical thought. He'd realised long ago already how dependent he had become on Piccolo.

“So, shall we try it?”

Vegeta returned her expectant gaze with a mute nod. 

To be honest, Vegeta had never been as nervous before a concert as he was now. Which hadn't anything to do with the concert though but rather his plan. He hoped it worked. It _had_ to work.  The fact that over the course of the whole week after Vegetas' unsuccessful attempts to speak to Piccolo on the phone there had been utter silence between him and Piccolo showed him in a frightening way how serious the younger man seemed to be with their breakup. After one single fruitless attempt to talk to Piccolo after the boys' classes, he had even forced driving the boys onto Bulma so that he hadn't been to the school now for over a week.

But Vegeta would fight for him. No matter how.

Short-tempered, he wanted to look at his cellphone for the fifth time now even though he knew exactly that there would be no message other than “Everything's going according to plan”.

Gohan had kept to his part of the plan. Now, it was on Vegeta to master the rest. 

Breathing in deeply to at least try to empty his mind and fall into the professionel rhythm that marked his play for twenty years now, Vegeta picked up his guitar.

Why did he do this to himself? Why the Hell had he let himself be talked into accompanying his little quasi foster brother and the son of his... ex-boyfriend?! To accompany the squirts to a  _ concert _ of said ex-boyfriend?! 

Unhappily, Piccolo pulled a face. Ex-boyfriend was a horrible word and a very cruel one. After all, he still couldn't believe for himself that it was over between him and Vegeta. Maybe, he made too much of a fuss – after all, he was glad he didn't have to be in the public's eye due to Vegeta's fame, something he had always wanted to avoid at all costs, and so now, he made such a fuss about the fact that Vegeta kept their relationship  _ out _ of the public eye?! Unfortunately, his behavior had nothing to do with rational thinking, just with very irrational feelings. So there was nothing he could do about it other than feeling incredibly hurt that Vegeta had denied so vehemently that there was someone in his life. Piccolo even understood that the guitarist was only concerned about Trunks' wellbeing, but still, he had felt betrayed and belittled.

The fact that he was here now and accompanied the two boys, who were actually more or less strangers to him, and to whom he really had no obligation – they were just his students like dozens of others – was simply grotesque. And actually, he was doing this only for Gohan's sake who had given him a panicked call that he had promised the boys to accompany them to the concert, but now something incredibly important had come up and please, could Piccolo not...

Piccolo huffed. Something was very dogdy here. Surely there would have been other people who could have babysat. Gohan's wife for example. Or Chichi (who would have been overjoyed if she knew who was entrusted with caring for her youngest). Didn't Gohan know what this demanded of Piccolo right now?! Having to see Vegeta on stage was pure torture. 

Unruhig rutschte er auf seinem Sitz hin und her und versuchte, sich auf die Musik zu konzentrieren. He'd never been to a rock conert. He'd never been to a concert in general, and actually, this wasn't really his kind of music, but at least he had to admit that it was a very special experience, no matter if he and Vegeta had parted ways or not. Because, much to his surprise, Vegeta displayed a smiliar, almost ascetic concentration and stoical composure that Piccolo himself displayed in a fight as well.  On TV, he'd often seen rockstars jumping over the stage like squirrels on Ecstasy, but Vegeta stood almost completely still, his body control was so exemplary that a couple of Piccolo's students would have been well-advised to take the guitarist as an example. His presence dominated the stage, his charisma controlled and serious, but at the same time proud and haughty, filled with a burning passion for what he did and in a regal way transcended over the world of the mere mortals, even when he mastered the difficult solo part of a very rocky piece, and all eyes were was focused on him.

Piccolo couldn't help but be impressed although he didn't really want to. Because, the longer he watched Vegeta admiringly (and from up here in their box which Vegeta had got for his friends and family of course, the view was even better), the stronger he yearned for the older man. For the umpteenth time, he wondered if he hadn't made the biggest mistake of his life in banning Vegeta from his life... 

Relieved, Vegeta lowered his guitar. As he wiped of the sweat from his brow with a towel, he mentally went through his challenging solo from a few moments again. He was glad to have mastered  _ Dawn of Victory _ so flawlessly because the closer the duet with Ami drew (ergo, now), the more nervous he became. 

And then, she suddenly stood next to him. He blinked. He hadn't even noticed as Hudson announced the duet that was received by the audience with jeering excitement given the news that it would be Vegeta doing that song. 

Behind them, the stagehands put down bar stools, and someone handed him his less amplified electric guitar. Ami already held her own guitar in her arms. 

In that moment, he was glad to have her at his side. Her presence somehow calmed him. He was no coward, but he wasn't sure if he would have pulled this through without her help. This whole endeavour was so completely out of character for him that it scared him. 

Nervously, he perched on the bar stool next to Ami. For a short moment, they looked at each other, and she smiled at him. Then, most of the lights on stage went out until the two musicians sat in just a single, bright spotlight, the rest of the band almost completely in the dark since they would only accompany the two on their instruments. 

Surprisingly, with the darkness around them both, a sudden calm placed itself around them, and a sudden calm fell over Vegeta. He took a deep breath and exhaled, then put his fingers on the guitar strings to pluck the first note. When he started to sing, he looked up at the box where Piccolo and the boys were sitting. He couldn't see anything of the audience, but he knew Piccolo was there, listening, looking at him, and hopefully, he'd see what Vegeta was trying to tell him.

The last notes faded from her mouth, and for a moment, deafening silence descended over the concert hall. Then, thunderous applause broke out. She smiled broadly as if on autopilot, but her entire attention was on Vegeta who looked out into the audience for a moment as if in a trance, but otherwise showed no emotion to the roaring applause. She had watched him during the song. Had watched him stare deep into the dark as if knowing that the person he was singing for was there. For his sake, she hoped they were. She had shuddered at the sound of his voice, at all the naked emotions that spoke from it. She didn't know who the message of her song was for, but the person would be an idiot if they didn't understand what Vegeta felt for them...

Abruptly, Vegeta slid from the bar stool, and left stage. The audience accepted that because they were used to his often gruff and abrupt manner. Ami on the other hand bowed, smiling, before she, too, slipped from the bar stool to follow Vegeta from the stage. In the same moment, the lights in the hall were turned up to signal the beginning of the break.

She stopped abruptly when she spied Vegeta in the middle of the backstage area, just behind the stage. Two kids talked to Vegeta, and she assumed that one of the boys was Vegeta's son. Then, she stared in amazement at the tall man who was standing a little behind the two lively children and looked as if he didn't really belong here, and at that moment also desperately wished to be somewhere else. But even though he didn't fit in here at all, he only had eyes for Vegeta... And Vegeta for him while he was still giving the children monosyllabic answers. There was a sparkle in both of their eyes, a kaleidoscope of emotions, the sight of which made her heart pound in her chest. She wished she would find someone who looked like that at her once in her life; a look that forgot everything else around her and radiated so much love and longing that she was not surprised that Vegeta had been so depressed with lovesickness. So, the message of the song had been for the stoic-looking young man...

She stepped nearer, careful not to disturb the two men who actually wouldn't have noticed her anyway, even if she'd have spoken to them directly. 

“Come on, you two,” she told the two children, suddenly completely calm, but with a wistful smile on her face. She offered her hands to the two boys. “There's ice-cream in the VIP-lounge.” 

While Goten stormed to her side excitedly, Trunks threw back a grinning if incomprehensible look at his father and Piccolo. He still didn't know why the two had been fighting, but that was obviously now all cleared again. Finally! The two men had alternately been obnoxious or totally depressed, which had frightened him  − even if he would never admit it.

Shaking his head, he then followed Goten at Ami's side who led them both out of the backstage area. Grown-ups. He'd probably never understand them. It was just as well that Gohan had come up with such a good idea to bring them together again... 

Before she and the boys disappeared from the two men's sight, Ami turned back again. Her heart leapt up into her throat, and she had to force herself to continue walking so as not to drew the children's to what was going on behind them. A tingling went through her body when she imagined that she could have been the one who just kissed Vegeta so passionately without paying attention to who saw her.

Once more, a wistful smile played around her lips. It had not been her fate to be happy at Vegeta's side but that of this mysterious man, but she both granted them their happiness with all her heart.

She turned her head forwards again to avoid giving this emotion-laden concert a fitting ending by falling flat on her face. 

Breathlessly, Vegeta pulled back from Piccolo, and looked up at the younger man. He felt so happy and relieved that he was short of acting as giddy as Trunks on a sugar high. 

“I'm glad you're here,” Vegeta smiled happily.

Piccolo returned the smile. “I'm glad as well... not to have missed your performance.” The gentle smile grew into a teasing grin. “You can sing after all.”

Vegeta made a step back, and put on an innocent mien. “Well, you know,” he began, but didn't finish his explanation. There were more important things at the moment. 

“Were you serious?”

“Do you really doubt that? Don't think I liked baring my soul in front of thousands of love-sick fans,” the older grumbled in mock-outrage, but then, he became serious again. “I don't care what happens and who knows. Really.” With a wave of his hand, he encompassed the busy backstage-activities around them, from whom nobody took any notice of the two men in their midst. “Let the whole world know, I can live with that, but... I realised that... that I... that I can't live  _ without you _ any more.” 

Piccolo nodded absent-mindedly, a wistful expression in his eyes. “Time has been... not easy for me as well,” he admitted although it had been him who had ended their relationship. 

Vegeta nodded, and he couldn't help but reaching out his hand to close his fingers around Piccolo's. He just had to touch the other man. 

“Do you want to come over?” Piccolo asked eventually.

“Yeah. Sure.” His answer had been too fast, too enthusiastic, but he couldn't help himself. All of a sudden, both of them felt awfully shy and uncomfortable despite their reconciliation. And both thought that they better took things slow (which had worked so well at the beginning of their relationship after all). Maybe talk things through for a start before hurling headlong into a relationship again. 

“I'll take the brats back home after... do you wanna come with?”

“I'd like to.” 

Vegeta nodded again, and felt a little stupid. 

“I wish it was over yet,” he moaned wistfully.

Piccolo shrugged. “I feel the same. But I have to admit it's fascinating to see you like this. You would have been a good martial arts fighter. Your control is perfect.”

Vegeta felt himself blush involuntarily at the compliment. “Thanks... Intermission's over in a few. Let's pick up the kids, okay?”

Nodding, Piccolo followed Vegeta into the VIP-lounge, so he could to return to their box with the children. 

The drive back was unbearable for both men. As long as the two excitedly chatting boys had been sitting in the back seat, it hadn't been that bad, but now that they were alone...

Vegeta let out a breath of relief when the school came into view. He hurriedly parked his car and then followed Piccolo into the building.

In silent consent, they directly went into Piccolo's bedroom where they undressed in silence. Vegeta crawled into bed, as did Piccolo, and they met in the middle. Though their desires for each other almost overwhelmed them, it wasn't what they needed tonight. Vegeta exhaled again in relief when Piccolo's strong arms encircled him, and he was finally able to wrap his arms around his lover in turn. Neither of them intended to let go of the other that night, stoically ignoring their excitement. Sex could come later. Now, the only thing that counted was the closeness of the respective other. 

“I love you,” Vegeta whispered into the darkness. He just had to tell Piccolo. No matter what happened; the younger man should always be assured of that. 

Piccolo moved closer to Vegeta so that not even one millimetre of space was left between them. 

“You too,” Piccolo responded softly. “Stay with me, okay?”

“Always.”

Relieved, the band realised that Vegeta's mood had improved considerably after the concert the day before yesterday – and they could guess the reason for that. Therefore, they intercepted him after the photo shooting for their anniversary album to interrogate him. 

“We saw you,” Jive explained without preamble, and inconspiciously positioned himself inside the door to the rec room that had been provided to them to prevent Vegeta from escaping. “During the break at the concert. Backstage. With this... man.”

“Oh,” was the surprised, but nonetheless cool and composed answer.

Jive swallowed; after all, he threaded on thin ice here, but he surged ahead bravely. “Yeah, oh. Do you have to say anything else to this?”

“That my private life is none of your business?”

“Don't get me wrong, Vegeta,” Hudson quickly threw in to prevent an impending escalation, but Grunge, with his big mouth, beat him to it. 

“You turned into a poofy faggot now? That's disgusting.”

You could have heard a pin being dropped. Jive and Hudson stared at Grunge, aghast, while Vegeta's face darkened menacingly. 

“Excuse me?” he asked, deceptively calm.

Grunge, who'd never been awfully susceptible for all things subtle, continued without registering the signs of looming danger. “It's true. I mean, how does it work? You secretely peeping in on us for the last twenty years in our changing rooms or what?!”

“As if someone'd be interested in your bony ass!” Hudson laughed nervously, once more desperately trying to defuse the situation.

Vegeta on the other hand didn't respond to Grunge's provocating words, he just continued to scowl at him.

“Who knows?” Grunge worked himself up into his indignation more and more. “There's a lot of talk. And doesn't mean that he doesn't want to get into our pants, too, just because he screws that poof...” 

A surprised, pain-filled scream echoed through the room. Hudson and Jive blinked, perplexed, as they tried to understand what had just happened, why Grunge lay on the floor, his face distorted with pain, and Vegeta stood above him, his hands balled into fists. 

“I'm still the same, and therefore, you should know when you've crossed a line with me,” Vegeta explained in a dangerously low tone. 

Grunge, sitting on the floor, taken aback, and cradling his throbbing jaw, suddenly stared up at Vegeta with wide eyes. Fear crept into his gaze, and he swallowed heavily.

“Okay, okay, Vegeta, 'm sorry,” he apologised sheepishly when he finally had realised that he'd gone too far, and he evaded Vegeta's hard stare. 

“And just for your information since you obviously never noticed: I've always been bi.” 

“Gosh, we never noticed,” Jive suddenly threw in, and scratched his head.

“Maybe because most of the time, we were totally wasted,” Hudson brightened up the situation, and at least this time he succeeded.

“That may be it. Right.”

Ignoring Grunge, Vegeta turned around, and snatched up his jacket. For now, he'd had enough of these dumbasses. 

“And... who is he?” Jive's hesitant question stopped him after all. 

With brisk movements, he slipped on his leather jacket. Vegeta growled dismissively. “That doesn't matter. It's nobody's business.”

“Okay. Are you... serious?”

Another fierce glare caused the lads to shrink back.

“Woah, never mind. It's just... I know that fierce look from your time with Bulma.” 

“Bulma was different. For a while, I thought it was serious between us, but...” 

“This is amazing. That I live to see the day where you fall in love.” 

Vegeta shrugged. “Why do you think I did the duet with Ami.” 

“Ha, so I  _ was _ right, and you wanted it to be a message!” Grunge cried with a victorious grin, who, by now, felt on safe ground again and therefore started running his mouth again.

“For once, you're right. We had one hell of a fight.” Vegeta shrugged again. “I was so desperate that I let myself get talked into this stunt.” 

“With women, such a romantic act works every the time,” Jive nodded precociously.

“My luck that it worked with him as well.” For good measure, Vegeta glared at his band colleagues. “That's no reason for you though to judge neither his nor my character because I did something kitschy like that. Write it off as a certifiable act of desperation.” 

“Okay, okay. After that punch, none of us would get that idea. And  _ he _ looked quite... masculine as well.” 

“Hmpf.” Satisfied, Vegeta crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Just for your information for the future: He is a martial arts master. You really don't want to mess with him.”

His band colleagues grinned sheepishly

“Don't worry,”  Jive assured quickly. “We may be reckless but not suicidal.” 

“That's a matter of opinion,” Vegeta grumbled. 

“The press will love this little tidbit of information even more than your imputed affair with Marron,” Hudson explained with a painful smile. 

Vegeta made an upset noise. “We're no stupid teenie stars any more. The world shouldn't give a shit whom we date.”

“You know very well that the yellow press  _ does _ care.”

“Tss,” Vegeta spat scornfully. “For twenty years, they never caught me with a man. If I don't mean to, they never will now either.” 

“With the little different that quite a few of the stage personnel witnessed your kiss during the break,” Hudson cautioned. “Amazing that nobody ran to the press to blab until now.”

“Maybe Krillin took care of it. There has to be a reason we pay him for.” Jive shrugged.

“Maybe.”

“I don't care,” Vegeta stated firmly. “The press, Marron, and my own paranoia almost destroyed the only serious relationship I ever had once already. This won't happen a second time. I'll come clear eventually, but first, I have to tell Trunks.” 

“Hm, yeah, right,” Hudson nodded. “He really shouldn't learn it from the papers. I see why you've always been careful.”

“Exactly. I just have to wait for the right time.”

However, finding the right time was not that easy. Somehow, Vegeta got no opportunity to speak to his son privately. Actually, he shouldn't be too worried about Trunks' reaction anyway. The boy was brought up to be tolerant, and he adored Piccolo. If there was one person he would accept by his father's side, it was his martial arts teacher.

At least later in the week, there was an opportunity to show Piccolo how serious Vegeta was about making their relationship public. And if there really should be anything in the newspapers because they had been seen together (Vegeta had well-kept contacts within various gossip magazines that would forewarn him if there was anything explosive being written about him in the press for the next day), then he was at least forced to actually tell Trunks quickly instead of just staving off the whole thing...

“The band is invited to some charity gala thing tomorrow night – again,” he murmured into the pleasant silence as he dozed with Piccolo on the sofa. He kept his eyes closed as he enjoyed the relaxing feeling of Piccolo's fingers massaging his scalp, his head on Piccolo's lap. “I would like it if you came with me,” he continued.

Piccolo's fingers paused, causing Vegeta to sleepily open his eyes to study his lover's thoughtful expression. “I don't think it's such a good idea,” Piccolo replied after a long silence. Now, Vegeta sat up, and looked questioningly at the other man, his enthusiastic confidence subdued for the moment. “Why not?”

“As what should I accompany you? As your date?”

“Sure... why not?” he repeated stupidly. He was confused. Was it Piccolo now who wanted to keep their relationship a secret? If Vegeta was beyond this point, the younger one would surely be able to adhere to their love. Wouldn't he? After all, that had been the reason of their fight... 

“I...” He hesitated. “I wouldn't have thought that you...”

“What? That I'm ashamed of our love? Don't even think something stupid like that!” Piccolo's harsh tone became softer. “That's not it at all. I know perfectly well what I accused you of, but nonetheless, I don't like being in the public eye.” 

Vegeta's mood turned a little milder. “I know. But it's not a big deal,” he explained, and looked at Piccolo with puppy-dog eyes. “I just have to make a short appearance, maybe for an hour, and then we can get out of there. I'll book us a table in a restaurant I know well.” 

Sighing, Piccolo averted his eyes from that begging gaze. Slowly, he nodded because he knew that he couldn't refuse Vegeta anything, and he actually felt that he owed him after all he had put Vegeta through. “Alright,” he gave in to his fate, and earned himself a passionate kiss from the older man as a reward. 

“There we go.” Vegeta's self-satisfied voice let Piccolo sigh in exasperation. “Oh, by the way...” 

Piccolo didn't even dare to ask since he feared the rest of that sentence. 

“Suits are obligatory, just so you know.” 

“Wonderful,” the younger moaned. “That's just what I needed.” 

Not even two minutes after they had left the gala through the back exit and were on their way to the parking lot, Vegeta tugged the bow tie from around his neck and stuffed it into his pocket. “Ah, much better.” 

Piccolo grinned lasciviously. “Even though you don't like the suit, you look damn hot in it.”

Vegeta's mask of superiority, arrogance and coolness which he'd worn the whole evening suddenly disappeared, and made war for a gentle smile that most people on this Earth would never get to see on his face. Slowly, he advanced on Piccolo, and put his arms around him. For a moment, he closed his eyes, moaning contentedly when the heat of Piccolo's body seeped through the fabric of his clothes, spreading to his own body like little flames to warm and devour him. “Have you looked in a mirror? I could devour you whole right here, right now.”

The younger man wriggled out of Vegeta's arms and strolled between the cars towards Vegeta's car. “No time. A reservation is waiting for us. I'm starving. Who's supposed to get full on only finger food?”

Laughing loudly, Vegeta followed him to the car. 

Fifteen minutes later, they sat in a comfy little restaurant at the verge of the city. Forgotten was the glitz and glamor of the gala, forgotten all the stiff, superficial and hypocritical people they met there, forgotten the somewhat embarrassing first meeting with the rest of the band; only the two men counted, who now sat opposite each other at the secluded table in the pleasantly subdued lights of the restaurant. Here, they were all by themselves; Vegeta had come here often enough in the past that his appearance did not cause any annoying uprising so that he was being left alone. Spontaneously, Vegeta grabbed Piccolo's hand across the table. He didn't care in the least who saw them, not anymore. “I know,” he began slowly, anxious to chose his words carefully, “that you fell uncomfortable among all these people, but...” Tenderly, he brushed his thumb over the back of Piccolo's hand. “But thanks for coming with me. It means a lot to me.”

The younger man returned the loving smile. “You just brought me with you so that you have something to look at,” he teased. 

Vegeta chuckled. “You're right. I had to have some pleasure during the evening, didn't I.” He squeezed Piccolo's hand tighter, and moved forward a little in his chair so that their knees touched under the table. “All the time, I couldn't think of anything else but to finally have you for myself, and slowly peel you out of this suit.”

“You should save that for later. Otherwise we are guaranteed to make it onto the front page; even in such a quiet, remote place like this, it would be noticed.”

Vegeta returned Piccolo's sly grin. “Didn't you know? I'm an exhibitionist of the worst kind.”

The younger sighed theatrically. “Oh yes, I can see that every morning when there is a certain, somewhat battered magazine on Noriko's desk.”

The mention of the photos from hell stopped Vegeta short abruptly, and he stuck out his lower lip in a pout, which caused Piccolo to give a happy, amused grin.

Vegeta either seemed to lose his hunting instinct so that he hadn't noticed that they had been followed, or the reporters lurked about waiting for someone else in front of the restaurant in the pouring rain. But no matter what happened, the moment they recognized Vegeta, leaving the restaurant intimately embracing another man, they pounced.

Vegeta's trained ears were the first thing to detect the bloodhounds, and the flash of a flashlight made him draw back from Piccolo and their playful kiss into which he had drawn the other man. He blinked angrily at the rapidly approaching paparazzi. Damn. So now it had gotten this far. But well. That's the way it is.

Determined, he grabbed Piccolo by the wrist and ran – after all, he definitely didn't plan on giving an interview to these vultures.

The loft door fell shut behind them with a bang.

“That was close. Normally, these idiots aren't the fastest.” Grinning maliciously, Vegeta peeked through a crack in the living room blinds. The reporters who were now besieging the house could stay down in the rain until they started growing mould for all he cared. Vegeta had time, and most of all, he had Piccolo with him. What more did he need. The paparazzi had seen him and Piccolo kissing, but he was convinced that the pouring rain had been too heavy for one of the photos to be any good. Bad luck for them, luck for him. With a triumphant laugh, he turned to his lover to share the success of the hunt he had won, but the grin on his face disappeared when he saw that Piccolo did not share his victorious glee. The younger one, like him, was wet to the bone from the rain, but the trembling of his body did not stem from his wet clothes. With clenched fists so that his knuckles turned out white, he stood stiffly in the living room, and stared hardly at the floor.

“What's going on with you?” 

The taller man startled when Vegeta touched his arm. With big eyes, he looked into his lover's face. Then, he sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped dejectedly. “I... I have to tell you something...” He stopped again. Even his voice trembled. 

Vegeta had a bad feeling in his stomach. The moment had finally come when he would probably find out more about his mysterious lover, but instead of tense expectation, he just felt uneasy.

Suddenly, after a few excruciatingly long moments of silence, Piccolo looked at Vegeta again, his eyes desperate and pleading. “I love you,” he said quickly. “You know that, don't you?”

Piccolo's eyes and words frightened Vegeta. He had never been more afraid of anything than of what Piccolo wanted to tell him. He nodded mechanically. “No matter what happens,” he replied, and it seemed the right answer because Piccolo calmed down a little.

“It's about... my past... and I want to tell you before you find out about it in the press,” he started again, much more composed now than a moment ago, but even now Vegeta heard fear in his voice. 

Reluctantly, he took Piccolo's ice-cold hand. “Don't you want to take off the wet clothes first?” he asked in a low, worried tone.

Piccolo shook his head. “Better not. I have to tell you now before my courage leaves me.” Vegeta nodded, and determinedly led Piccolo over to the couch, where both settled down, regardless of their wet clothes. Piccolo was still staring at the ground, his fists clenched tight on his knees. “How much did Gohan tell you?” the younger man finally asked, and looked at Vegeta, who was sitting next to him, eager, but also sick with tension.

“Not much. He said – more by accident – that you grew up together, and that it was up to you to tell me your story.”

A mixture of relief and renewed fear emerged on Piccolo's features. “Well... do you remember a serial killer from twenty years ago? The press called him the _demon_.”

Vegeta nodded, unsure what Piccolo was getting at as he fumbled for vague memories in his mind. “The case went through the press for months. As far as I know, Goku shot him on the run, didn't he?”

“Yes, that's correct.” Ashamed, Piccolo lowered his head. “He was my father.” 

Vegeta blinked, and wondered if he had heard right. “He... was... your father?!”

Piccolo flinched at Vegeta's shocked exclamation as if he'd been whipped, but he forced himself to muster up all his courage and go on. “My mother, his wife, was his first victim. I was two years old when he killed her. All the other women after her... They all looked like her. And like her, they all suddenly disappeared. I still don't know why he suddenly became like that, and did this to her and the other women... Maybe she wanted to leave him, and that caused him to snap. I dont know...”

“Why...” Vegeta hardly dared to say it, but he had to ask. “Why did he let you live?”

Piccolo shook his head. “Because I reminded him of her, I think. He had been obsessed with her all these years. And when he couldn't find a woman who looked like her when we moved again and again, he lived out his sick fantasies on me.”

The images of the numerous scars on Piccolo's back shot through Vegeta's mind, how they'd felt under his fingers, and he shivered. Suddenly, he felt numb, he no longer felt the cold of his wet clothes, because the inner cold far outweighed that of his body. He had wanted to know where these scars came from for ages. Now that he had actually learned the truth, he wished he'd never learned the truth. The idea of a father doing this to his own child made him sick and furious.

“I was six when Goku shot him. After that I had no one left, so Goku took me in. Chichi never liked it; she still hates me today. She could never understand why Goku, just because he was the cop who killed the killer, felt committed to his son. ”

“Well, tha t's Goku for you.”

A gentle, grateful smile played around Piccolo's mouth when he thought about his foster father. “Yes, that's him.”

“Chichi was the only one against you, wasn't she? The way Gohan talks about you, he adores you.” 

Absent-mindedly, Piccolo wrapped his arms around his wet, cold body. “She still got her way. The older I got the more hostile she was since I looked more and more like my father, not my mother. I think she was scared that I'd become like him, leading Gohan astray as well. When I was old enough, I left to make my own way. But we lost contact so much that Goten never met me as his foster brother. Until a few months ago, I've never met him before. Gohan and I only see each other in secret so that Chichi doesn't notice anything. You know what she's like.”

“Hm. Already wondered about that.”

Scared, Piccolo looked Vegeta in the eye. “Aren't you shocked about my past?” A touch of hysteria tinged his voice confronted with Vegeta's calmness. He recognized how close Piccolo was to being overwhelmed by his panic. So he hurried to answer him, and moved closer to his lover but so that he could still keep eye contact.

“I'm shocked, that's right, but only about what you had to go through...” Vegeta snuggled close to Piccolo's side. “I'm so proud of you that you are so strong, and haven't given up on wanting to be better than your father... It would have been so easy to follow into his footsteps since people like Chichi put you in that drawer anyway.” 

“That's why I was afraid when you came to my school with the boys. I feared that if the press followed you everywhere, sooner or later, the press would dig up my past. I'm still afraid of that because I know how people will react to my background. Everyone will say that martial arts makes me just like my father, but most just don't understand that martial arts can be something pure and good that is there to protect. As a result, I've tried for most of my life to come up against the bad image my father sheds on me. Without the discipline fighting requires of me, I wouldn't have gotten that far...”

He clenched his hands into fists again, but Piccolo relaxed as Vegeta wrapped his arms around him, and pulled him back into the pillows of the sofa. The older man hugged the larger body tightly, and ran his fingertips gently over Piccolo's cheek. “Those who count know that. Fuck the rest of the world.” Vegeta stretched and kissed Piccolo tenderly. “I was serious when I said, after the concert, that the world can know about us. Nothing will ever make me leave you.”

After long minutes of silence, the numbness caused by the shock dissipated, and they began to shiver with the cold.

“Come on, we'll catch a cold here,” Vegeta murmured, freezing. “Let's take a bath.”

The younger man nodded. He seemed to have calmed down again, which relieved Vegeta because he was deeply shocked to see the normally so strong and controlled man this desperate and distraught.

Mutely, Vegeta pulled Piccolo into the bathroom who followed him as if on autopilot, and set about running his huge bathtub full of hot water.

Both groaned in relief when they sank into the hot water after peeling off their wet clothes, and Vegeta immediately pulled Piccolo into his arms. They silently enjoyed the hot water and the closeness to each other, words were not necessary, and they only left the bathroom when the water began to get cold and their skin had become pruney.

Since Vegeta didn't have a single piece of clothing that Piccolo would fit, he wrapped him in a thick blanket so he wouldn't catch a cold while they were both in the kitchen and Vegeta was busy with his coffee machine.

“Sorry, unfortunately I don't have any tea.” Vegeta grinned mischievously at Piccolo while he was making coffee. This elicited at least a small, cynical grin from the still dazed man. “So that's your revenge for not having coffee at mine that first morning.”

“Well. Revenge is sweet. In this case bitter, but you will survive it.”

“At least now I know why you're always so chipper,” Piccolo remarked with a sigh after catching a quick look into Vegeta's kitchen cupboard which was full of coffee cans. “A little more rest would do you good, and that's what tea is for.”

“There is caffeine in tea, too. More than in coffee. Didn't you say so yourself?”

“But not in a disintegrated form.”

“Aha. Well then.”

Enjoying their mutual banter, they waited until the coffee was ready, and then retreated to the sofa again.

“You have a nice home,” Piccolo finally commented, and Vegeta looked at him a little melancholy, his fingers cradled around his hot coffee cup.

“This is no longer my real home,” Vegeta replied meaningfully.

Piccolo blinked at him in surprise, but then recalled what Vegeta had said about Piccolo's world, and that he wanted to get lost in it. He nodded slowly and acceptingly.

The two men spent their time in silence until they finished their coffees. That was the nice thing about their relationship; they didn't feel the need to constantly talk, it was okay to just be silent together once in a while. Something Bulma had never fully grasped...

But eventually, Vegeta put his empty cup aside and looked at Piccolo. A lump logded in his throat when he was gripped by a strong wave of affection for Piccolo, who, still wrapped in a blanket, looked so incredibly young and vulnerable this moment.

“Let's go to bed,” Vegeta whispered roughly. 

Piccolo nodded and rose. The blanket slid from his shoulders with the movement.

Vegeta had to swallow. The affection he felt was still there, but suddenly she had lost her innocence at the sight of the body suddenly exposed in front of him. Instead, desire swelled in him, but he pushed it ironly back. There was no room for that tonight.

Hands clenched into fists, Vegeta followed Piccolo's example. He passed Piccolo to show him the way to the bedroom, and while he was doing it, he unceremoniously pulled his T-shirt over his head and just dropped it on the floor – when he heard a low, disapproving sound behind him, he had to grin. The noise died, however, when he pushed the sweatpants that he had put on after bathing just as easily over his hips, and stepped out of them (he hadn't bothered with underwear). The sound that Piccolo made behind him was more like a helpless whimper when Vegeta now presented his naked body to his lover. His grin brightened. Still, he stoically ignored the steadily simmering desire in his loins for the other man.

He climbed into his bed, and reached out for Piccolo, who willingly took his hand.

“For years, I haven't left my flat in the nights except for the occasional tournament,” Piccolo mumbled when he let himself be pulled onto the bed by Vegeta. “A strange feeling.” 

In the half-lightl he heard the older man's amused laugh. “It'll work for tonight, even if I miss your bed.”

Piccolo couldn't help but laugh, the last bit of tension of the evening seeping out of his body. “Not my fault if you don't care for sleeping comforts.” 

Vegeta then grunted indignantly, but nonetheless pulled Piccolo close to him. He felt Piccolo warm and half hard against his thigh, just like the younger man had to feel his own arousal, but that wasn't what they both needed tonight. As on the night of their reconciliation, mutual proximity was enough at that moment.

Piccolo heard Vegeta's breath slow and steady as he stared absently at the ceiling in the dark, running his fingers through his lover's silky hair. “I'm still afraid of the press and people's reactions when they find out who I am, but... I was... most afraid about you leaving me as soon as you know about my past...” Piccolo whispered.

Vegeta didn't answer for a long time, so Piccolo thought his lover was already asleep, but then he felt Vegeta's arms tighten around his torso, and the older man lifted his head from Piccolo's shoulder to press a loving kiss to his chest, directly above his heart.

“I know,” was the soft answer. 

Piccolo noticed immediately after waking up that he was not in his own bed; the mattress he was lying on felt completely different and the light was wrong. Only the warm body that pressed itself against his back was familiar.

Then he remembered, and his heart sank. The gala, eating out together, the reporters... his confession...

But then he remembered how Vegeta had taken it, that his lover was still standing by his side instead of turning away from him in disgust.

Although that did not lessen the danger of being exposed by the press to the world, Vegeta's understanding and support would at least help him get through this. The only opinion that counted was Vegetas.

Even if Vegeta regarded Piccolo's flat as a refuge – as had Piccolo for years; it was the other way around this morning. Though paparazzi might still be hanging around the loft, at that moment, Vegeta's loft was the refuge Piccolo needed. Not the school or his own flat where he had been hiding from the world for years because of his past. This here was a neutral place that let him forget his past for a while, paradoxical as it may sound. It was only yesterday, in these four walls, that he had entrusted his dark secret to someone for the first time in his life...

Vegeta suddenly moved behind him, and lifted his head a little so that he could blink at him. ”Stop thinking so loud,” the disgruntled command sounded from behind him, and in the next second, Vegeta flopped back down onto the pillow. ”It's way too early for that.”

Piccolo secretly agreed with Vegeta – they should enjoy their time together, undisturbed –, but he couldn't help but ponder over everything that had happened. Too much had happened...

With a sigh, he nestled against Vegeta's warm body which held him from behind. He was more aware than ever of his scars the moment they were pressed against Vegeta's chest. However, he was all the more aware now that Vegeta didn't mind, that the other man still loved him. It filled him with humility and wonder, but also with pride to have met someone like Vegeta...

At some point however, even a rock star could no longer ignore the real world outside, and they got up. After a rather meagre breakfast consisting of coffee and some rusks(whereupon Piccolo had only shaken his head with a pitying smile), the martial arts master decided to return back home – especially since he had classes at noon. Thanks to Vegeta's sympathetic care last night, he had calmed down, and was confident that from now on, he would be better able to deal with his shameful past.

Vegeta understood his wish that he wanted to be alone for a while in order to process everything. So, while Piccolo put on his now dry suit again, Vegeta climbed up to the roof to check whether the paparazzi were gone. It wasn't often that they chased him to his loft, but when they did, they always had the same hiding places around the house. And they hadn't ever noticed before that Vegeta had already spotted all these hiding places up here from the roof.

Vegeta went back down, satisfied after finding that the air was clear. He met Piccolo in the livingroom who was ready to go.

Without a word, Vegeta stood on tiptoes, and kissed Piccolo deeply.

“See you,” he said after they broke from their long kiss. “Take my car, okay.” He nodded his head in the direction of his car keys on the little table next to the front door. Questiongly, Piccolo looked at him.

Vegeta shrugged. “I still have my bike.”

Piccolo nodded gratefully, and then couldn't resist brushing his fingers gently through Vegeta's hair. Then, he left. 

For a few minutes, Vegeta remained standing in the middle of his livingroom, undecided, after the door had clicked shut behind his lover. At least he wouldn't have to worry that his lover got home safely... 

For the next couple of hours, Vegeta moved through his loft as if in a trance. He still felt a little numb because of everything that he had learned yesterda. Therefore, it turned out to be impossible to concentrate on anything. The attempt at cleaning the loft was quickly abandoned, but even his guitar couldn't cheer him up; he just plugged the cords listlessly and distractedly until he finally gave up. Normally, playing his guitar calmed him down, but this time... 

At one point, he couldn't bear it anymore. His gaze strayed over to his computer, and suddenly he realised why he couldn't concentrate on anything. Something ate away at him, and until he hadn't found out what that was, he wouldn't be able to get anything done today.

Swallowing heavily, Vegeta sat down behind his computer.

Vegeta's fingers flew over the keys. It wasn't as if he was in a hurry. On the contrary, he was free all day, but something was driving him to get the information he wanted as quickly as possible. The moment Piccolo left his loft, it was as if someone had flipped a switch inside of him that made him restless, now that he no longer had to be strong for Piccolo's sake, and that urged him to look for anything he could get his hands on. What he was looking for on the internet, however, he did not really know himself. He could have asked Piccolo, and his lover would have told him everything he wanted to know, but Vegeta couldn't bear to cause him even more pain by having to relive his cruel childhood.

He quickly stumbled across old newspaper articles that exploited the serial killer's bestial deeds in every detail. He read them, shivered at their contents, but they weren't what he was looking for. They never mentioned Piccolo, which was why he continued to search. And then he found the articles that described the night when it all ended. How the police, after a long, painstaking search for clues, had uncovered the man's identity, and had gone to his house to confront him. How Goku had chased him, and finally shot him. How... Vegeta took a deep breath. One of the pictures showed Goku. He carried a little boy in his arms, dressed only in pyjama pants. The older man tried to cover the small face with his hand from the cameras' flashlights. Even if Vegeta couldn't see Piccolo's face, he recognized the dark bruises and knife cuts that covered Piccolo's upper body despite the poor image quality.

Shakily, he leant back, unable to tear his gaze away from the horrible picture. Why did he do this to himself? Wasn't it bad enough that Piccolo had told him about it last night?

Suddenly determined, he sat up straight again though, and read the article. He even went through all the others that followed, but they hardly revealed anything about Piccolo's fate, probably to protect the child. 

He had to look at this because he felt that he had to share this with Piccolo. It helped him to better understand his lover so that they could become even closer in the process, but it also would help him support Piccolo better should the younger man need his comfort – or his protection from the world.

It was afternoon already when Vegeta looked at the clock the next time. He surfaced back into the real world like a diver that came from deep under the water; it was a shock, that was how deep he had been immersed in his research. He'd been so busy with Piccolo's tragic past that he hadn't even checked what the blasted press had written about him and his mysterious lover (that they  _ had _ written something was out of the question).

Blessed with the worst timing ever, as always, Bulma called just in that moment. 

“What!” Vegeta snapped at her since he was still pretty thrown about everything he had learned. 

“What do ya mean,  _ what _ ?!” she snapped back. “As if you don't know.”

Sighing, Vegeta leant back in his office chair, and massaged the bridge of his nose with two fingers. He felt a headache crashing down onto him. “Get to the point, Bulma, I'm not in the mood.” 

“Hmpf. I'm talking about the article – or rather the articles, plural – splattered on every gossip rag's front page proclaiming to have caught you snogging a mysterious man. Last week, it was this stupid cow Marron, and now this?! Some even write, although they couldn't get a clear shot because of the heavy rain, that this man is supposed to be Trunks' martial arts teacher. Is this true?!” 

It wasn't any of her business with whom he had a relationship, but since he realised that she was only concerned for Trunks, he gave in, and obligingly informed her of things happening lately. Well, some of the things. 

“Yes, it's him,” he admitted eventually.

For a while, Bulma was uncharacteristically silent while she obviously thought about what she'd heard just now. She was perfectly aware that her ex and Trunks' teacher had struck up an unlikely friendship, but up until now, she had never drawn any conclusion that there could be more between them. If...

“Are you serious about him?”

Irritated, Vegeta gritted his teeth, and pressed forth a brisk “yes”.

“Hmm.” Bulma became silent once more, lost in thought. “Nonetheless,” she continued eventually surly. “I don't imagine you want Trunks to learn from some newspaper that you have someone new. And that that somebody is his own teacher of all people.”

“No, I don't want that,” he growled. “But it's a bad time for this, Bulma.”

“Nonsense. I don't care who you shag, but your son comes first. Get your ass over here, and tell him. Shouldn't be so hard, is it!”

Involuntarily, Vegeta balled his hands into fists so that the phone he was unfortunately holding started creaking ominously. “The Hell I will,” he hissed.

“You're coming here, and will talk to him, Vegeta!” she screeched. “For now, I could keep him away from any newspapers or the news, and managed to entertain him otherwise. And since it's the holidays, no dumbass gets the chance to say something to him, but this won't be the case for long.  Don't be so damn egoistical!”

“I'm not egoistical!” he wanted to shout back, but he didn't. It wouldn't be of any use anyway. And, unfortunately, she was right that someone would have to talk to Trunks...

“I'm on my way.”

Furious, he slammed the phone back into the charging station, and instinctively wanted to reach for his car keys – which he had given Piccolo.

Swearing, he went to search for the keys to his motorbike, and then rushed out of the loft. 

Footsteps sounded behind Trunks, which he almost didn't hear in his discovery excitement. He turned curiously. “Hi, Dad,” he called to his father, who'd just come up into Capsule Corp.'s spacious attic.

“What are you doing up here?” Vegeta asked a little bit astonished, and he cocked at sceptical eyebrow when he spotted his son inmidst a huge pile of old stuff. His ex-mother-in-law had send him up here when he'd dropped into Capsule Corp. looking for Trunks – and if possible without coming across his ex. 

The boy shrugged. “Goten had to go shopping with Chichi, and I was bored. Mum said I can keep everything I find up here.”

“As if you didn't have enough stuff,” Vegeta noted sarcastically, thanking Bulma on the inside though that she had deployed that tactic to keep Trunks away from the newspapers and TV. 

Sighing, Trunks' shoulders slumped. “I thought this would turn out a little more exciting. Just old clothes and books so far.” 

Vegeta advanced, and squatted down next to his son to regard the findings a little closer, still intend on to tell the boy the truth. “Not even a thrilling book?” he asked while perusing the stack of books to his right. 

“Nope. Mostly mum's school books and some boring cooking books from grandma.”

Vegeta looked around the vast room. Right next to him, a plethora of books were stacked up who Trunks had either not looked through yet or had immediately dismissed them. The topmost book behind the first stack attracted his attention though. Carefully he picked it up out of the semi-darkness under the light of the naked lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. A dull noise sounded when he took the book from the stack, and he noticed an object wrapped in a white cloth that had tumbled from the stack of books. He picked up this find as well, and unwrapped it. A orange-coloured crystal ball the size of a baseball was revealed. Four red stars blinked in the balls core. 

“Wow, Dad, cool,” Trunks exclaimed, and knelt next to him excitedly. “What's it?”

Vegeta shook his head. “No idea. Maybe some kitschy deco,” he mumbled, and allowed Trunks to take the ball since his interest had turned towards the book again. The old leather cover was what had attracted his attention. This antique, worn book stood out clearly from all the other books here. The board was decorated with a pattern of varied colours, and the title “Myths and Legends” was displayed amidst all the colours in gold letters. Interested, Vegeta opened it, and thumbed through it. Suddenly, he discovered a picture of the same ball Trunks was eagerly playing with right that moment. He scanned the text next to the picture. His heart started pounding excitedly in his chest, and he closed the book again. “Hey, Trunks...”

His son looked up. “Would you leave me the book and the crystal ball?” he asked.

Trunks returned his questioning gaze with childish greed on his face. He had to proceed with more cleverness. “I know the ball's the first interesting thing up here, but I wanted to give it to Piccolo. I told you once that he loves this myths stuff, and this ball is mentioned in this book.” He held up the book.

The childish-greedy glittering disappeared from Trunks' eyes, and he smiled. “Oh, sure, take it,” he replied happily, and handed over the ball to Vegeta. The older man smiled, triumphing on the inside. He just knew that he could bait his son with his fascination and affection for Piccolo. So, why was he so worried about Trunks' reaction?  _ Just tell him _ , he thought angrily, but even now, he couldn't bring himself to do it. To be honest, he didn't have the slightest idea why not. After all, this was about a serious relationship, not som one-night-stand that Vegeta didn't want Trunks to know about. He did want to spend the rest of his life with Piccolo, didn't he. He wanted them to be a family, and Trunks was a part of that of course. So, why... 

Grateful, he let himself be distracted by his son's happy babbling so that, after a while, he had managed to shove it far back into a corner of his mind again. 

Relieved, Piccolo stepped into the sanctuary of his flat, glad to have managed the trip to the supermarket with not too many strange looks. Even his own dojo was, one day after the countless newspaper articles, no refuge for him any more. The children didn't notice anything, but their parents had looked at him strangely, and even his assistant teachers had frowned. But he couldn't tell if it was because of his presumed relationship with Vegeta or because of his past that the reporters had kindly dug up into the light as well. Only Noriko didn't treat him any differently. On the contrary. She seemed to have made it her mission to defend Piccolo and Vegeta's relationship like a wild cat, and Piccolo had watched her vehemently put an end to one or the other nosy look since then... 

At any rate, he was glad to be alone for the rest of the evening. Nonetheless, he wished Vegeta was with him. But they hadn't seen each other again since yesterday morning, and it was what Piccolo had wanted after all. But now, he wanted Vegeta here.

Sighing softly about his skittish behaviour, he put down the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter, and mechanically put his supplies away. What he needed right now was a nice hot shower which was why he made his way into his bedroom hastily now. He shed his T-shirt on the way already, and when he emerged from under the cloth again, he stopped dead in his tracks. A box was placed onto his bed together with a letter. Puzzled, he dropped the T-shirt, and stepped closer. He perched on the mattress, and pulled the box closer. The handwriting on the envelope didn't tell him anything, but since only Noriko and Vegeta had a key to his flat, and since he had seen Noriko only a few minutes ago, the box must be from Vegeta.

His shoulders sagged disappointed when he scanned the few apologetic lines Vegeta had written him obviously while Piccolo had been doing the shopping so that his lover hadn't found him here – because now, he recognised the letter paper as his own which he stashed down in the office. Obviously, the preparations for a concert abroad had been accelerated, and therefore, Vegeta had to leave immediately. 

Piccolo lowered the letter, and stared onto the box with the present Vegeta left him.

His breath caught when he lifted the lid, and spied the book. It was a beautiful copy. Old, and very elaborately decorated. He was touched that Vegeta had put that much thought into what would give him some pleasure. The cloth-wrapped crystal ball he unwrapped was a surprise that dissipated again though when he opened the book to a page that was marked with a piece of cloth. There, he found a picture of the crystal ball – a Dragonball – and the opposite page told about the legend concerning the Dragonball. Fascinated, he browsed he page. After he'd finished reading, he was surprised that either somebody had gone to the trouble of creating a copy of the Dragonball or... or that this Dragonball was the real thing. Magic didn't exist, sure, but nonetheless, so many strange things happened on this world that Piccolo was quite willing to believe in magic. So, why shouldn't the legend about the Dragonballs be genuine. 

Full of anticipation, he put the book aside for now. First, he wanted a shower before he would take the time tonight to read the book. Until Vegeta was back, he would have something to do at least. 

Disgruntled, Vegeta fixed his gaze onto the obtrusively ringing phone so as if he tried to silence it through his will or make it explode which would boil down to the same result after all. Chuckling, Piccolo rather answered before his lover resorted to more drastic means to restore their intimate togetherness after one week of being abroad.

He was surprised to hear Noriko's voice at the other end of the line. A quick look onto the phone's display told him that she called from the foyer.

“Boss, I forgot my keys. I'm really sorry, but can you close up?”

Sighing, Piccolo nodded before he remembered that she couldn't see him. “No problem. Good night, Noriko.”

“Good night, boss. And... give Vegeta my love,” she added in a shy, dreamy voice. Then she ended the call. 

For a moment, Piccolo stared down onto the beeping phone, baffled. But he should have known that she hardly missed a thing, and much less her idol's presence. She seemed to have a sixth sense for guessing Vegeta's location. With a grin, he put the phone back down, and grasped his keys lying beside it. 

“I just go lock up. Noriko forgot her keys.”

Vegeta only answered with a disinterested “Hmpf”, and instead applied himself to his dinner again. Piccolo's amusement grew into a broad grin. “She gives her love,” he called on his way outside, and through a quick look back over his shoulder, he could see Vegeta shudder.

He hurriedly ran down the stairs, and quickly raced through the training hall and the foyer. He wanted to get back to Vegeta as soon as possible. It was also pretty cool down here, and he wasn't wearing much. The cool air relentlessly wrapped around his bare torso, and he was barefoot which wasn't a particularly good idea on the freezing tiles.

When his finger hovered over the last button of the alarm system next to the front door, the air suddenly quivered around him. For a second, it was dead silent, and it felt like he was standing in an airless room. Then all hell broke loose around him. A deafening bang suddenly threw him on the ground, and he instinctively put his arms protectively around his head. The walls and floor shook, concrete trickled from the ceiling onto his back, and glass clattered to the floor around him. The sudden smell of something burning reached in his nose.

Dizzy, Piccolo shook his head after carefully removing his hands. What in the world had happened? An earthquake, he wondered, and the next moment, the question didn't matter when he thought of something much more important.

“Vegeta!” He jumped up in panic, and ran towards his flat, forgetting all caution for the moment. But before he could storm through the destroyed glass corridor connecting to the training hall, unmindful of the broken glass on the floor and his bare feet, he stopped abruptly, because through the cracked glass, he could see his office and his flat above it. Or at least where they had been. He took in the sight in shock: the office and training hall had collapsed completely. and his flat had collapsed above the destroyed office. Bright, blazing flames licked from the rubble, the wooden walls of the training hall were already blazing brightly and illuminating the dark blue night sky in a ghostly way, the dark smoke that was rising obscured the stars and shone through the flames in devilish red. In the distance, the howling of sirens could already be heard, but at that moment, he knew they would be late to save Vegeta. If his lover was still alive, Piccolo had to act himself.

He looked around the foyer for a moment, panicked, then grabbed Noriko's desk chair. With all his might, he threw it against the splintered glass wall of the connecting corridor, causing thousands of glittering pieces of broken glass to rain down. With a mighty leap, Piccolo jumped over the razor-sharp shards, and landed roughly in the rubble-strewn grass. The acrid smell of smoke was not as bad out here as it was inside, but the deadly fire spurred him to an even greater hurry. Piccolo went halfway around the collapsed building before finding a relatively safe-looking place to climb inside.

Coughing and with watery eyes because of the smoke, Piccolo made his way through the seemingly impenetrable debris. He didn't think of the danger of collapse; he could only think of Vegeta, otherwise, he would not be able to find him if he was distracted by something else. Searching, he felt his way forward with his hands, repeatedly calling Vegeta's name. The thick black plumes of smoke around him were so dense and acrid that he could not see his hands in front of his eyes and instead squeezed them shut. He only tried to take only the most necessary breaths. He couldn't pass out! He had to keep going! Sharp fragments of stone, glass, and metal cut his face, hands, feet, and torso, and heated metal that he brushed burned him. But he ignored the pain, and instead crawled on all fours into the smoky cave of rubble.

Suddenly, one hand encountered something slippery so that his arm slipped away, but he was able to hold on to something at the last moment before he hit the uneven ground littered with sharp rubble, causing even more injuries. Despite all the haste, he straightened up and knelt to find out what he had encountered. Maybe it was just the remains of his refrigerator's contents, but something told him to investigate. He groped until his fingers ran through the thick, warm mass again. Through the acrid smell of smoke, he suddenly detected a sharp metallic smell as he lifted his smeared fingers closer under his nose.

Blood.

He felt all of his own blood drain from his face, and a horrible panic gripped him. “No, please not!” he whispered hoarsely so as if stating his plea out loud would undo his worst fear. Hastily, he felt his way forward, following the trail of blood. Suddenly, as if through a miracle, his fingers encountered warm flesh as he managed to grasp Vegeta's arm. 

“Vegeta! Can you hear me? Answer me!” He whispered as loud as he could, but Vegeta didn't reply. Surely, he wasn't... No. Piccolo felt Vegeta's weak but steadily beating pulse at his neck. Relieved, he breathed out shakily, withstanding the almost overpowering urge to pull the unconscious man into his arms. Another, violent coughing fit made him move again. They had to get out of here, otherwise, they would both suffocate before the fire could even reach them to burn them alive.

His arms trembling from the effort, he picked Vegeta up. Fortunately, the older man was much smaller and lighter than himself. Thunderstruck, he felt warm blood seeping through Vegeta's shirt that then dripped onto his own naked skin, running down his body in warm, viscous rivulets. 

With his precious cargo in his arms, Piccolo tried to make his way back through the debris, always reminding himself that it was becoming hotter and hotter behind him. The crackling of the fire had become unmistakable, roaring in his ears loudly and deathly. And came ever closer. 

He didn't know how long he took fighting his way through the rubble, not knowing if he crawled in the right direction or maybe not deeper into the ruins after all. But eventually, a rescuing whiff of fresh air met his face. Relieved, he gripped Vegeta's lifeless body tighter, and let himself slide down the remaining half-metre into the cool grass. Coughing and blinking violently, Piccolo put down Vegeta in the grass to gulp fresh air into his smoke-dried lungs.

Then, everything went black. 

When Piccolo woke up, the first thing he became aware of was the biting pain in his lungs with every breath he took. He felt as if the insides of his lungs were only made from raw, sore flesh. Then, the rest of his body started to protest when he moved. His skin burned in a lot of places because of heavy burns or deep cuts. He simply felt weak and he felt sick. Nonetheless, he tried to sit up.

“No, don't!” It was Gohan's voice that reached his ears, and with much effort, he turned his head. “You mustn't move,” the younger man warned him worriedly, and scrutinised him from head to toe. Instead of sitting down onto the chair placed next to the bed again he had immediately vacated when Piccolo woke up, he made a move to leave the room to get a doctor. 

“Wait!” Piccolo croaked, and he pulled a face in pain. Gohan returned to the bed.

“Vegeta,” he whispered, and looked at Gohan with a pleading expression.

The light in the room wasn't very bright, the window shades were pulled down against the blinding sunlight streaming in, but even in this dimmed light, Piccolo saw all colour leaving Gohan's face.

“No...”

“No, no, don't worry!” Hastily, the black-haired man placed a calming hand onto Piccolo's shoulder. “He's alive, but...” Crestfallen, he sat down. “They operated him the whole night. I... I don't know much, but they don't know if he will make it. That he's still alive is only thanks to you.”

An icy shudder ran through Piccolo all of a sudden. All feeling bled from his body, even pain and nausea vanished, and were replaced with a paralysing numbness. 

Compassionate, Gohan squeezed his shoulder before he left the room to get the doctor. When the doctor came into the room, Piccolo only heard the man as if from a distance. He really didn't care that he had suffered smoke poisoning as well as countless cuts and burns; that was a diagnose he had managed to made for himself already, thank you very much. What interested him much more was Vegeta's condition, but the doctor wouldn't tell him anything more since he wasn't close kin.

Although Piccolo rebelled against it, his body seemed to be of the opinion to desperately need some rest which was why he fell asleep rather soon again. He only awoke the next morning from a restless sleep. He still hurt all over, but his worries for Vegeta let his own pains fade into nothing. He desperately wanted to be with him...

At noon, Gohan visited again to keep him some company. 

“I'm so incredibly sorry,” the younger man stated at some point, quite helpless. “Your whole life work is destroyed.” 

Equally as helpless, Piccolo shrugged while he fought his tears. He only realised now completely what he had lost.

“Can't do anything about it,” he choked forth bravely. 

Compassionately, Gohan put his hand on Piccolo's arm. “You can stay with me of course. Videl already prepared the guest room. You're welcome with us any time and for as long as you want.” 

“Thanks,” Piccolo replied meekly, touched by so much compassion and helpfulness. 

“I brought a few clothes, too,” Gohan explained while he rose to put the small sports bag that he'd placed next to the bed onto the chair. “Videl, always thinking practically, quickly packed a few of my clothes for you which should fit you before I came here.” 

Piccolo smiled. Gohan was really lucky to have found such a good and caring wife who sometimes reminded Piccolo of Chichi in her resolute way, but was otherwise a really nice person. He'd only met her a couple of times, but that had been enough to let him assess her character. He also looked forward to meeting Gohan's little daughter Pan. And suddenly, his situation no longer seemed as devastating to him as a few moments ago.

“I,” Gohan started again, and tilted his head in the direction of the window. “I have to go back to the university...”

“Go,” Piccolo interrupted the flustered man. “I'll be fine.”

“Okay. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“You did so much for me already, Gohan.”

“That's not an answer,” he chided his friend gently, and Piccolo shook his head. 

“No, I don't need anything. Thank you.” Gohan hadn't been able to give him any more news on Vegeta except that the older man had survived surgery.

“Good, then... I'll come back after work, okay?”

Piccolo nodded absentmindedly which Gohan returned a little uncertainly before he left the room. 

He waited a while to make sure Gohan was really gone before Piccolo sat up to leave the bed. Every bone in his body hurt, and his injured feet ached like hell despite pain medication, but he managed to stay on his feet even if it was more out of stubbornness and concern for Vegeta than physical healthiness. He hadn't seen his lover since the explosion, and although Gohan had assured him that Vegeta was alive and had survived the operation, he wanted to see for himself since nobody wanted to give him any information otherwise. All he wanted was to climb into Vegeta's bed, and curl up around him so that nobody could ever hurt him again.

Determined, he gritted his teeth, and slipped on some of the clothes Gohan had brought him. Then he limped slowly out of the room and down the hall. He had no idea where Vegeta might be, but he just guessed that his lover was still in the intensive care unit. Since he had to start searching somewhere, he decided to try there first.

The way there was incredibly long and arduous, but nothing could stop Piccolo from reaching his destination. Not until he saw Vegeta, and made sure he was doing well given the circumstances.

Piccolo stopped when he suddenly heard Bulma's voice coming from another corridor just around the corner. He'd only met her once when she'd brought the boys to class during their week-long break, but he'd recognize that voice everywhere.

“I've had enough, doctor,” she explained softly but determined. “Don't tell me that you still don't have a final diagnosis.” 

“No, no,” a male voice assured contritely. ”We wanted to be completely sure first, and finish with all the tests. Right after surgery, diagnosis wasn't clear.” 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Bulma sounded as if she could barely hold back from making a scene. 

The doctor sighed audibly. “Miss Briefs,” the doctor said beseechingly. “I'm sorry, but his spine is broken. Additionally, right next to the break at his tailbone, there's an open wound that got infected. We hoped surgery dealt with the possible consequences of these injuries or at least narrow them down, but the infection destroyed all our hopes.” The doctor made a helpless sounding noise. “He won't feel anything from the waist down or at least hardly anything. The odds of ever being able to walk again is practically zero.” There was a little pause, so as if the doctor shrugged his shoulders apologetically. “We've done everything we could. Without the surgery, he'd be either dead now or paralysed from the neck down.” 

From where he stood, Piccolo could hear Bulma's soft sobs. Composed, she said thoug, “Thank you, doctor.”

“I'll keep you informed, Miss Briefs,” he replied compassionately before the steps faded away.

Piccolo turned away; he had heard enough. Numbly, he dropped onto one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs that happened to be next to him. Just for a moment. Just to collect himself, he told himself, but when he sat there, he felt that he couldn't find the strength to move his trembling legs to get up again.

It was all his fault! He should never have listened to his body and heart when they told him he wanted Vegeta. He should have stood firm. Then none of this would have happened!

He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. At some point, however, Piccolo suddenly got up, as if a switch had been flipped inside that set his body moving again. With tired steps weighed down with sorrow, he turned the corner and headed for Vegeta's room. He paused for a moment in front of the closed door, his hand on the doorknob to gather all his courage. Then he quietly entered the room. He knew that the short visitors time to the intensive care unit was long over. So he was quiet and careful that the hospital staff didn't catch him. Vegeta lay quietly in bed, he did not move a muscle. He had turned his head away from the door. He looked so lost and vulnerable in the big bed that Piccolo was heartbroken.

"Vegeta?" he asked softly, on the one hand so as not to wake Vegeta in case he was sleeping and on the other hand because he could not speak any louder.

But the other man had heard him, and turned his head to look at him with broken eyes. "Did you hear?" Vegeta asked after a few moments of staring silently at each other. His voice was as weak and hoarse frome the smoke as Piccolo's.

Piccolo nodded. He moved closer after carefully closing the door behind him, and sat on the edge of the bed. He gently took Vegeta's smaller hand which, like his own, was bandaged almost completely.

“Are you in pain?” Piccolo asked carefully.

Vegeta would have shrugged if he could. “I'm so full of painkillers that I don't feel anything.”

Again, oppressive silence fell over the room. Piccolo gently squeezed Vegeta's hand a little harder.

“Vegeta, I... I'm so sor...”

“Stop it! I don't want your pity!” the other man interrupted him angrily. Piccolo stared at him in shock. 

“You better go now,” Vegeta continued, his cold tone cutting like a knife deep into Piccolo's soul and hurting a hundred times more than his physical wounds. He stared at his lover for a moment, stunned. Then he stood up shakily without another word, his eyes now turned away from his lover. He couldn't bear to see the accusation in the black eyes. Vegeta blamed him for what had happened. That was all too understandable and he accepted Vegeta's wish not to see him anymore. He no longer had the strength to fight. He didn't deserve to fight for Vegeta.

Dejected, Piccolo left the room without looking back. His body felt numb, his heart torn.

Vegeta watched his lover leave the room with his shoulders drooping. His hands were shaking with anger, frustration, and despair, so that he had to dig his fingers into the bedspread so as not to hit anything. He felt his chafed skin tighten, but he didn't feel the pain. Instead, it hurt all the more internally. He wished nothing more at that moment than that Piccolo would embrace him now, but for nothing in the world would he have endured the pity he would surely find in his partner's eyes. He didn't want Piccolo to see him in that weakened, pitiful state. Vegeta had never felt so ashamed and so helpless in his life. This weakness, which he felt physically as well as emotionally, was overwhelming. The only positive outcome of the terrible events of the past few days was that at least Piccolo had remained more or less unharmed. He wouldn't have been able to bear it if something had happened to him.

Slowly turning his head in all directions to relieve his aching neck, Gohan entered his office in relief. He stopped abruptly in the door frame when he saw Piccolo slumped and sitting motionless on the old couch, staring straight ahead.

“Piccolo!” he exclaimed, which finally tore the older man out of his melancholy trance. He hurried over to him and knelt before him. He carefully took Piccolo's bandaged hands in his.

“What happened?” he asked. “Did something happen to Vegeta?”

When Vegeta's name was mentioned, tears suddenly sprang up in Piccolo's eyes. Alarmed and deeply shocked, Gohan heaved himself from the floor and onto the couch to pull Piccolo into his arms. His foster brother let it happen without resistance, and desperately wrapped his arms around Gohan in turn.

For a while, they sat in silence, hugging each other on the sofa. Countless questions were burning on Gohan's tongue, but he didn't want to push Piccolo. He tried to reassure himself that Piccolo would not be here with him if something had happened to Vegeta.

Eventually, however, Piccolo broke away from Gohan, and hesitantly told him about his confrontation with his older lover, still with tears in his eyes.

To be honest, Gohan didn't really know what to say afterwards. Could there be two more stubborn men than these two?! He wasn't sure if he could ever bring these two idiots together again though. Maybe now he needed help from someone else. But that could wait for now. Now he should take Piccolo home first. He was definitely not in any condition to just walk around here.

“Come,” he said gently. “We're going home now. No buts.”

He patiently helped Piccolo to his feet, and slowly they walked towards the door.

“I don't like the fact that you just signed yourself out of the hospital,” he reprimanded as they left the office.

“What am I supposed to do there?” Piccolo replied stubbornly. “I'm fine.”

Gohan thought it better not to answer that. 

With a feeling of total dejection after a sleepless night in Gohan's guest room, Piccolo gathered all his courage and returned to the place that had been his whole life. Now, he had only a huge pile of rubble in front of him. Everything he had fought for, everything he had built up, and to which he had devoted his whole life now lay in ruins. Not even the clothes he wore belonged to himself. For a brief moment, he despairedly asked himself whether he should bother and search through the rubble or whether everything was lost anyway. But then, he shrugged resolutely. He had lost Vegeta to the tragedy, then he wanted at least to save something else from his life, even if it was just a tiny, half-burned book.

Ignoring the fire department's barrier tape, he carefully climbed over the large boulders and charred wooden beams. He approached the ruins of his flat from behind since the entrance hall was still standing, but it had deep cracks and was in danger of collapsing. The training hall, his office and his flat on the other hand had been completely destroyed by the explosion and the subsequent fire. Overwhelmed again by devastating helplessness, he pushed a few stones out of the way with his foot here and there to see if anything underneath would appear that could be salvaged.

He did not know how long he had been rummaging around cautiously between the still smoking rubble – it could not have been very long, although it seemed like an eternity – when he heard steps behind him that were caused by a careless step here and there causing small avalanches rubble that threatened to make the visitor slide.

“Hey, Piccolo.” 

Piccolo looked up. Goku made his way through the rubble towards him, his eyes fixed firmly on the rubble under his feet.

“What are you doing?” the police officer asked when he didn't get a reaction from Piccolo. 

Piccolo shrugged. “I just wanted to see if something could be salvaged, but...” Thoughtfully, he looked down on the Dragonball in his hand that he'd found by chance underneath the rubble, stained with Vegeta's blood.  He closed his fist tightly around it so that it hurt, and the bandage around his hand became soaked in blood. And suddenly, he had the terrible feeling that this blood-stained crystal ball was the only thing he had left of Vegeta. Suddenly powerless, he dropped onto a large chunk of debris.

Goku looked down at his foster son thoughtfully, and stemmed his hands into his hips. “I see. I'm sorry. You worked so hard for this.” 

The taller man shrugged again; his emotionless reaction made Goku suspect that he was still in shock.  “At least nobody died.”

“Not died...” 

Piccolo looked up from his crouching position and frowned at Goku. The older man's face was serious and professional, and lacked his otherwise present cheerfulness. He also wore his badge clearly visible on his belt. “You are not here on private business, are you?” it suddenly occurred to him. Goku shook his head.

“The doctors won't let me see Vegeta yet, so I'll start interviewing you. Any idea who could be behind the attack?”

A humourless laugh made it out of Piccolo's throat. “Better ask who isn't a possible perpetrator.” His fist tightened around the orange crystal ball. “Instinctively, I would say it was a relative of one of my father's victims who found me through all the newspaper articles. Or maybe it was a sick fan of Vegeta's who didn't like our relationship... there are enough motives.”

“Hm... we're not really sure yet whether the attack was directed at you or Vegeta. Since the bomb was planted in your house, it's more likely you, but the motives... you are absolutely right, it could be all of that and yet something completely different. We really don't have much to work with yet. Hopefully, that will change as soon as we know more about the bomb.” Goku moved a little closer, looking uncertainly at the rubble in front of his shoes until he could crouch next to Piccolo. “Have you been to see Vegeta?” he asked quietly.

Piccolo didn't want to answer, but probably didn't have a choice. He nodded slightly. “He doesn't want to see me. I can understand him only too well.”

“Why?”

“Because he'll blame me for his injuries. Isn't that obvious?” 

Goku frowned. “Did he tell you that?”

“No. His expression told me enough though.”

“But...”

“Leave it!” the younger man spat, and Goku hastened to shut his mouth.  At moments like these, when his foster son suffered great pain and defended himself aggressively like a wounded animal, he was very much like his father. And Goku could clearly see how much Piccolo was suffering; Gohan had been right to ask him to talk to Piccolo this morning. He secretly decided to find out if Vegeta really blamed Piccolo because he honestly didn't believe that.

“You,” Piccolo started, his anger gone. “Don't you have anything to say about it? About Vegeta and me?”  
With difficulty, Goku resisted the urge to take Piccolo into his arms, so moved and hurt was he by his son's fear and insecurity. But he knew from experience that the younger man could not bear any closeness at the moment, even if he longed for it. It had always been that way.  
With a sigh, he shrugged. “I would have liked to hear it from you and not from the newspapers, but... otherwise, I want you to be happy. It's been long enough before you were given such happiness.”

“A short happiness,” Piccolo muttered dejectedly.

Goku put a comforting hand on his arm. “If you tell me now that you deserve to be miserable because of your father, I'll get mad! You will see. Everything will be fine!”

“You and your optimism.”

Dazed, Piccolo sat in front of the window of the guest bedroom in Gohan's house.  The beauty of the setting sun eluded his perception, instead, he just stared ahead, his gaze turned inside. The conversation with Goku a few hours earlier had troubled him, but not nearly as much as his catastrophic encounter with Vegeta yesterday afternoon. The thought of never seeing the other man again made him feel like he was trapped in a scrap press that squeezed all the air and blood from his body, causing him to slowly die.

Quiet steps behind him told him that someone was entering the room – no doubt Gohan, who would be the only one who would come in uninvited, as he was not deterred by his brother's whims.  
The soft clink on the windowsill made him risk a sidelong glance. Gohan had placed a cup of tea next to him; its steaming, fragrant scent pleasantly reached his nostrils. The younger man carefully sat down next to him on the wide, padded windowsill.

“Go on, drink. Otherwise it will get cold,” he warned softly and sipped from his own cup. “Will do your throat some good.”

Piccolo carefully picked up the warm porcelain with his bandaged hands, although he wasn't thirsty, but hoping that the hot brew could actually relieve his pain a little. At least the physical pain, but maybe also a little of his mental pain.

They both stared out of the window for a while. Words were completely unnecessary between them.  
Then, they spied Chichi in the garden of the neighboring house, taking the laundry off the line. They both grimaced. The violent fight between Gohan and his mother the previous evening was still on their minds all too clearly. It had ended with Gohan furiously throwing his mother from the house because he had tried in vain to make it clear to her that he could give shelter to whoever he wanted in his own house and that went especially for best friend, who had just left the hospital and now had nothing. When Chichi realised that she could not expect any support from her daughter-in-law, she had stormed away and had not shown herself since.

Gently, Gohan leant against Piccolo, and laid his head onto his shoulder. “You'll see,” he whispered. “Everything will be alright.” 

Piccolo highly doubted that, but he didn't say anything.

Vegeta flinched when there was a knock at the door to his room. Why couldn't they understand that he didn't want to see anybody?! His luck that he wasn't in intensive care so that every dork yould come visit him whenever they liked.

The door opened without him having invited the unwanted visitor in. 

His mood lightened a bit though, when he saw that it was Trunks.

For a moment, the boy stood at the door, a little lost and insecure, while he stared at his father.

“Hey,” Vegeta greeted him, and jerked his head to encourage Trunks to come in.

A shudder of relief ran through the boy when he saw that his father, despite his grave injuries (his mother hadn't told him everything, had tried to sugarcoat the whole matter, but he wasn't stupid; he knew that his father was hurt very badly), seemed to be still the same. A little bit more confident, Trunks closed the door behind him, and approached the hospital bed. He climbed onto the chair next to the bed, and scrutinised his father closely who simply stared back.

“Goten told me that Piccolo lives with Gohan now,” was, surprisingly, the first thing Trunks said to him.

Vegeta had to pull himself together very hard not to wince at the words. He was secretly glad that Piccolo had someone to take care of him when Vegeta had already abandoned him in such a brutal way.  
As an external reaction, however, he only gave a growling grunt. “Does he? I'm so glad that you are also asking how your father is doing.”

Trunks pressed his lips tightly together. He looked away from Vegeta's eyes. “I know that you're hurt real bad, Dad”, he said softly. “I didn't want to... I thought...”

He flinched when Vegeta's hand suddenly appeared on his shoulder. With bated breath, he looked up. 

Vegeta nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” 

At that moment, he wondered whether he would have snapped at his son like he'd lashed out at Piccolo if the boy had told him he was sorry for what had happened to Vegeta. He hoped not, but sometimes, his pride and temper simply got the better of him. He had already pushed his partner away from. Now hurting his son this way too...

“I'm glad Piccolo is doing well,” he said.

Trunks nodded vigorously and looked his father in the eye. “You two are so stupid!” it then burst out of the boy, causing Vegeta to blink in surprise. “Now you have fought _again_. And who's going to fix it this time?”

“Trunks...”

“I realise that grown ups sometimes fight. You and Mum fight all the time, and Gohan and Videl argue sometimes as well although they love each other. But now it's enough, don't you think, Dad? Call him, and tell him to come back.”

Vegeta blinked at his son in shock for a few more moments. “Trunks, I... Piccolo and I... Why do you...”

“Oh please,” the boy mocked sarcastically. “How stupid do you think I am? I've known for a while now what's going on between you and Piccolo.” 

“You do?” Vegeta's eyes widened, gobsmacked.

His son suddenly looked at him reproachfully, one eyebrow cocked so that Vegeta suddenly snapped his mouth shut instead of saying anything else.

Trunks sighed loudly and threw his arms up in the air in annoyance. “That adults always think that we children don't notice anything.”

“Oh. well...” What was he supposed to say to that. 

“I'm reading the newspapers, too, by the way.” 

This made Vegeta flinch. The slight reproach in Trunks’s voice had been impossible not to note.

“I'm sorry.” There, now it happened;  he was feeling so guilty that he even apologised! He gave a humorless laugh. “I didn't know how to tell you, but you weren't supposed to find out from the newspapers. That's why I was so careful that we weren't seen together until I knew how to tell you. But then Piccolo told me... some bad things about his childhood, so I just had other things on my mind than talking to you about our relationship, and then I was abroad the week. And then...” Vegeta didn't have to go on since they both knew only too well what had happened afterwards.

“Dad.” Trunks sighed, and shook his head reprovingly. “I'm not a baby any more. And to be honest, I don't know since the newspapers wrote about you.”

“You don't?”

“Nope.  I realised after the anniversary concert. Until then, I thought that you two were good friends, but then I saw two men snogging in town. And then I knew. The two looked at each other just like you two did during the break at the concert.”

Vegeta nodded stupidly, nonetheless grateful that the cat was finally out of the bag... After what had happened yesterday, he actually hadn't counted on having to tell Trunks anyway anymore... 

“And... and you're alright with that?” he asked carefully.

Trunks blew his bangs out of his eyes. “Sure. Why wouldn't I?”

Vegeta shrugged.

“Well. How's it going, Dad? When are you gonna call him?”

Vegeta evaded his son's expectant look. “It's not that easy, son.”

“Why not?” Trunks frowned in confusion. “'Course it is.”

“No. Y esterday, I hurt him pretty badly with my words. After all, it wasn't the first time I did that, didn't I. So maybe it's better if we let it go. He deserves better.”  _ And even more so now that I'm in this state _ , Vegeta thought bitterly, but didn't say that out loud. He didn't want to show his son how much he was sinking into self-pity.

Trunks frowned again, and a dissatisfied look had sneaked up on his face, which was in no way inferior to his father. “That's stupid, Dad.”

“Maybe you'll understand when you're older,” the rock star said firmly, and with that, the topic was closed for him, even if he knew that Trunks just wanted to help.

Frustrated, Trunks blew the pony from his forehead again. He knew his father's tone. There was no further discussion now. How would he ever understand these adults?!

The next day, Goku headed for Vegeta's hospital room with determined steps. He had finally been given permission to interview his best friend's ex-husband, but that could wait. Now he was on a completely different and more urgent mission. Because, honestly, what would Vegeta's statement contribute to help grab the bomber if the attack had been directed at Piccolo with almost one-hundred percent certainty anyway? No, his mission was for his foster son. He just didn't want to believe that Vegeta blamed Piccolo for his terrible injuries, because he had known the older man long enough to know that Vegeta would never blame the cruel attack on the man he loved. And Goku firmly believed that the old grinch had seriously fallen in love with Piccolo.  
When he arrived at the door, he knocked and entered immediately. Normally, Vegeta would have given him a sour look if someone simply burst into his room uninvited, but now, the musician hardly reacted to Goku's entrance.

“Hey Vegeta,” Goku greeted him, putting on the carefree grin that Vegeta hated so much, hoping to get at least a little reaction out of him.

Vegeta gave an unreadable growl and continued to stare out the window. “At least you don't ask how I am,” he finally said in greeting.

“No,” Goku replied, pulling up a chair to the bed where he reclined. ”That is pretty obvious. I'm sorr...”

“Don't you dare say you're sorry! I've heard that enough!”

“Hm... did Piccolo say that, too? That he is sorry? Is that why you showed him the cold shoulder?”

Vegeta tried to act as if he was not interested in Goku's words, the policeman could see that, but he could also see how Vegeta's body stiffened instantly, and he held his breath when Piccolo was mentioned.  
“You know... I visited him yesterday. He is pretty depressed. All of his life's work has been destroyed and, oh yeah, he's completely broken because of you. He blames himself for what happened because of his background and so... ”Goku babbled seemingly carelessly, but kept a close eye on Vegeta. “He believes that you blame him for your injuries. Crazy, isn't it? Of course I told him that was nonsense, but because you were so harsh on him, he just believes it and...”

“Stop it!” it suddenly burst out of Vegeta. Goku suppressed a triumphant grin. The older man had turned his eyes from the window to finally look at Goku. A little of the old fire blazed in his black eyes, giving the policeman hope. He tried to put on a blank face. “Hm? So, he's right and you're blaming him? Vegeta, that's very unfair of you.”

“Of course I'm not blaming him, idiot!” Vegeta shouted angrily. “How dare you even think that!?”

Goku shrugged. “Then why were you so dismissive?”

“I... it's none of your business.” Vegeta's anger suddenly subsided, but instead gave way to deep-seated annoyance.

“Then you've gotta tell him that,” Goku admonished him, completely serious now. 

Vegeta's eyes widened. “You played me! Right from the start.”  He shook his head in frustration. “Most of the time you act so dumb that I forget what you're capable of.”

The grin on Goku's face no longer had any trace naiveté or carefreeness about it, but radiated pure cunning. “You wouldn't have told me otherwise if I hadn't driven you spare. Your pride would still have stood in your way and made you both unhappy. But seriously, Vegeta. Piccolo is facing the ruins of his life, but that's only half as important to him as the fact that you seem to hate him now.”

Vegeta stared at the younger man in shock. “He really thinks that?”

“Yes.”

He clenched his fingers into the covers. Despair overcame him and shame because he had forgotten, in his own pain, that there were others in his life who also suffered. Because of him. And all of a sudden, all his earlier thoughts were that it might be better to go separate ways were as if blown away. The only feeling that still filled him was longing. “Can you bring him here? Please.”

Goku was surprised to hear a sorry from Vegeta's mouth and then in such a small and pleading tone, but that only convinced him all the more of the strong feelings that the rock star held for Piccolo. “And if I have to drag him here in handcuffs. You have my word.”

A loud commotion in the hallway made Vegeta sit up, startled. A nurse's angry voice drowned out almost everything, but in addition to the high, nagging voice, he heard a dark, pleasant voice that, from the first time he'd ever heard it, had always sent a chill down his spine, and the sound of which he had missed terribly the last few days. However, the voice sounded pretty angry and outraged at the moment.

Less than five seconds later, Goku burst into the room and dragged a struggling Piccolo behind him – seriously handcuffed.

Goku gave Piccolo a push in the direction of the bed where Vegeta was lying, watching everything, amused and shocked. “There. My job's done. Now it's up to you,” Gokue explained cheerily, and took of the handcuffs, then dashing from the room while shoving the still complaining nurse outside the room as well. 

Seething, the martial arts master glared after his foster father. 

“Why don't you sit down, now that you're here?”

Vegeta's calm voice brought Piccolo out of his anger, and he turned around. Once more, suffocating guilt roled over him when he saw his lover so weak and helpless. He couldn't move even one muscle, and could only stare at Vegeta. 

The other man sighed heavily, and struggled to sit up. “Come here... please,” he begged, and reached out his hand towards Piccolo. 

He somehow found the strength to get his body to move, and sit down on the chair next to the bed. Only hesitantly did he place his hand into Vegeta's. The older man cradled Piccolo's hand tightly within of his own, and pulled them into his lap.

“Listen... I'm sorry that I was so harsh to you,” Vegeta began, and forced himself to look his lover in the eye. Surprised, Piccolo returned the look. 

“But,” he began, but Vegeta shaking his head made him fall silent. 

“Goku explained everything to me.” A growl sounded from Piccolo's throat. “No. it was the right thing to do. Do you really think we would have seen each other ever again out of our own accord? We both would have been miserable only because of my stupid pride and a silly misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding?” Piccolo's eyes widened.

“I don't blame you. How could I?! The reason I didn't want to see you was... because I was ashamed of my weakness. I didn't want you to see me like this. I was frustrated and angry about that, so I took my anger out on you.”

“Do you really think I would love you less only because you can't walk any more?!” the younger man exclaimed in shock. 

“Something like that, yeah,” Vegeta laughed bitterly.

“That's rubbish. But that doesn't change the fact that it is my fault. Only because somebody wanted to harm me, you have to suffer the consequences now. If we'd only never met, then...”

“Don't say that!” Vegeta cried, outraged. “Don't say anything like that ever again, do you understand me!”

Their desperate, panicked gazes met. Vegeta swallowed. He wasn't used to show his innermost, and was even less used to express them with words.

“Don't you know that I love you, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?” he whispered. His throat felt constricted, and his sight became blurry. 

Piccolo didn't care about his own tears, and not about Vegeta's either. He pulled Vegeta's hands towards him which still held fast to his right one, and desperately pressed his lips onto the bruised, burned knuckles. “That's my wish as well,” he whispered brokenly, then, he leaned forward, and kissed Vegeta with all the passion he had. The other sighed in relief when he finally felt his lover's lips on his own again, and he wrapped both arms around Piccolo's neck to pull him even closer. 

Piccolo shuffled onto the bed next to Vegeta, and for long minutes, they simply held each other tightly. 

“Stay with me tonight,” Vegeta asked after some time of keeping silent, and ansent-mindedly brushed the tears from his cheeks. 

Piccolo tightened his hold around the injured man, and buried his face, wet with tears, in the blond hair. “Always.”

They only moved when, after some time later, a nurse entered the room to bring Vegeta's dinner. She didn't bat an eye, just cocked an eyebrow when she saw the two men on the bed wrapped up in an embrace, and she didn't even let herself scared away by the nasty glare Vegeta threw her.

“You have to go now,” she explained to Piccolo stoically. “Visitor time's over.” 

Piccolo sat up to protest, but he fell silent abruptly when Vegeta placed his hand against his cheek. Questioningly, he looked at his lover again. 

“There's nothing I wish more than to have you with me, but you're hurt as well. Go back to Gohan's and recover. I'll get by.”

“But...”

“No buts. You have to think of yourself now.”

“I'm fine.”

“Sure,” Vegeta mocked goodnaturedly, but nonethless threw Piccolo a pointed look which the martial arts master actually couldn't withstand.

“I can recover here as well,” he insisted stubbornly.

“And I can call Gohan and Goku if you want,” Vegeta retorted. 

He realised the second his lover gave into his fate. Even Piccolo didn't want to take on two Sons.

Dejectedly, he nodded, and slipped from the bed.

Ignoring the waiting nurse, Vegeta reached for Piccolo's wrist once more. The younger man looked down to him questioningly.

Vegeta pulled him down until he could kiss him.

When they let go of each other, he looked into the startled face of his lover. 

“I haven't even thanked you for saving my life,” he mumbled.

Involuntarily, Piccolo blushed, and made a dismissive hand gesture. “That's... that goes without saying.”

“It doesn't.” Gently, Vegeta took Piccolo's bandaged hand in his. “I'm sorry that you got hurt because of that.” 

He didn't give Piccolo any time to protest again, but pulled him into a last kiss for today.

Breathless, the two men let go of each other eventually, and the pointed clearing of a throat from the nurse definitely made clear that they had to say goodbye for now.

Nodding numbly, Piccolo left the room.

Vegeta looked after him for quite a while, disapointed to have to say goodbye so soon again, but therefore, he felt as if a burden weighing tons had been lifted from his shoulders. He'd Piccolo back. And that was the only thing that counted.

Before he got the chance to visit Vegeta the next day at the hospital, an unexpected visitor stood in front of Gohan's door. Gobsmacked, Piccolo looked up from his morning cup of tea when Videl led Noriko into the dining room. 

Before he could get even one word out, his resolute employee had stormed towards him to pull him into her arms. 

“Boss!” she wailed, part theatrical and part serious.

A little helpless, Piccolo patted her back, and waited patiently until she'd finished crying. In the meantime, Gohan prepared a cup of the for the guest, and then discretely retired with Videl.

Piccolo looked after the two with a grateful smile.

Eventually, Noriko managed to compose herself again. She let go of Piccolo, and dropped into the chair next to her. Mutely, he pushed the cup of tea in her direction which she immediately emptied in one go. 

As he filled her cup again, Piccolo desperately wondered what to say to her. After all, he had to start somewhere...

“Noriko, I...” He swallowed heavily while he chose his words carefully. “I have to thank you.” 

The young woman blinked at him in surprise. She hadn't counted on  _that_ when she'd come here. “What for? I haven't done anything.”

Awkwardly, he shrugged. “Without your forgotten keys, I'd probably be dead, and then, I couldn't have gotten Vegeta out of there. At bottom, you saved us both.” 

Her cheeks suddenly glowed with pride and joy that she had saved her idol, but she visibly pulled herself together. She cleared her throat seriously. “You're welcome, boss. I will try to forget something more often.”

This brought Piccolo back abruptly into the bitter reality. He sighed in depression. “I'm sorry that you're without a job now.” 

“Stop apologising!” Noriko exclaimed, laughing disbelievingly. “It's hardly been your fault.” 

“Maybe it was,” he whispered. 

She put her hands on her hips vigorously, and glared at him. “Now listen to me. Of course I also read the whole article, even if I haven't said anything yet. But do you know what I say about it?! Bullshit.”

Piccolo gave a surprised, shocked whimper at her unexpectedly violent outburst.  
“Apparently, you've been busy atoning for a long time for something you haven't done. Forget about your past and your fear of it for a minute, and open your eyes. Can't you see how much your students worship you and how much your friends love you as few as they may be?! Nobody sees you as your father – at least nobody who counts. The rest of the world can go to hell. Nothing has changed for me, you are still my boss.” Piccolo stared at her, speechless, unable to say a word at the moment. “But we don't have a school,” was the first thing he managed to say.  
Her determined, grim expression softened with a smile. “I spoke to Tenshinhan on the phone. He is already sitting on the next plane home. He will help you rebuild the school. We already planned everything through.”

“But he can't,” Piccolo protested, but she could him off with a chiding gesture. 

“He can and he wants to. That's the least he can do for you he says.”

“He owes me nothing,” Piccolo countered. “I'd never ask anything from him just because I helped him.” 

“And nonetheless, he wants to give you something back. Don't be so pig-headed, and accept his help.”

Piccolo then nodded silently, in fact, extremely grateful inside. Not for amy material help, but simply that there were people who thought of him.

He took a sip of tea to process the whole thing.

“And now spill,” Noriko finally blurted out. “How is Vegeta?”

After Gohan took Piccolo to town every morning, the martial arts master spent the rest of the day with Vegeta until Gohan gave him a lift home in the afternoon. The hospital staff had become so used to Piccolo that they let him come outside of the visiting hours. They didn't have the heart to deny the stoic young man access to Vegeta's room, and secretly, they were touched by how devotedly he looked after the rock star. From their side, they made sure that no annoying reporters who had besieged the building in the first few days could get into the hospital. In the meantime, the rush had slowed down a bit and everything was still running through the management of  _ The Saiyans _ . The only time a comotion had broken out was the day before yesterday when the band came to visit their guitarist with Ami Peach in tow. Although they had tried, their visit had not gone unnoticed.   
But otherwise, access to Vegeta was strictly regulated; only family and close friends were let through to the rock star. And although Trunks came to see his father regularly, sometimes together with Goten, it was Piccolo who sat by Vegeta's side every day and tried to encourage him. Because nobody had missed the flare-ups of depressive moods that the older man regularly fell into, even if he tried not to show anything. Maybe it was time to let him go home. Vegeta's wounds were practically healed and the doctors were unfortunately unable to do anything for his legs. Maybe he would feel more comfortable at home so that he could also overcome his depression...

“I want you to move in with me,” Vegeta began hesitantly one day after his doctors told him this morning that he could go home.

Piccolo looked up. 

“Of course not to take care of me, and... and if you want, it only has to be temporary until the school is rebuilt, and...”

Piccolo's hand, which took his, made him stop. He looked at Piccolo with a mixture of hope and fear.  
The younger man looked back seriously, but with love in his eyes. “I gladly accept your offer. And of course I'll take care of you, that goes without saying.” 

“But I don't want... This isn't your job!” Vegeta protested desperately. “Just forget it. It was a stupid idea.”

“Being with someone doesn't always mean to just enjoy life together.  It wouldn't speak well for my feelings for you if I let you down now.”

Vegeta looked away, his other hand clutching the arm of his wheelchair. “Why do you want to stay with me? I'll just be a millstone around your neck. We will never be a real couple again, and we can never sleep together again... You throw your life away if you stay with me!”

Piccolo clearly heard the despair and lack of understanding in Vegeta's voice. “I'm not saying that it doesn't matter, but...” he tried to cheer the other up a bit. “I've been fine without sex all my life,” he joked. “I can manage the rest of my life as well even if the withdrawal phase will get tough.”

It worked; Vegeta let out a tiny, amused smile.

“Have you still not understood what it means to love?” Piccolo asked, now completely serious.

“It's... hard to accept,” the older man mumbled, and closed his eyes in defeat. Even though he couldn't understand Piccolo's actions in any way, he wasn't so stupid to throw away this opportunity now. He needed this man in his life, and felt like he could never be happy again without him. It was just... his feelings seemed to be going crazy right now and not letting him get a clear thought. Frustrated, he brushed his fingers through his hair which was getting longer and longer. The blonde had grown out so far that only the tips of his hair were blonde anymore and the rest black. Piccolo lovingly tugged at a few tangled strands as he gripped Vegeta's hand more tightly with the other hand.

“Come on,” teased the younger one. “It's not that difficult if even a celibate hermit like me got it.”  
They grinned at each other for a split second before Piccolo got serious again. “I don't care what the future holds. As long as I'm with you.”

“But you shouldn't not care,” Vegeta pressed forth, depressed and angry at the same time, the humorous mood faded away.

Helpless in the face of his partner's emotional outburst, Piccolo rose from his chair and dropped to his knees next to Vegeta's wheelchair. He also took Vegeta's other hand and held it. He looked up intently at Vegeta. “Just accept it, you stubborn idiot. You won't get rid of me. I think we both learned from our mistakes. For my part, I feel armed against everything that comes, and you should, too.” He squeezed Vegeta's hands. “You are strong, Vegeta. We'll get through this together.” He stretched his neck to kiss Vegeta. “And now I don't want to hear any more of that, got it? Let's just make sure we get out of here.”

In response, Vegeta made a grumpy sound, but squeezed Piccolo's hands more tightly.

Piccolo could finally breathe a sigh of relief over the next few weeks. Being back home helped immensely to improve Vegeta's depressed mood. Especially when he was finally able to play the guitar again. Sometimes, he played an apparently random repertoire of pieces, spanning from rock to traditional for hours. During this time, he had almost forgotten that he could no longer walk. The awakening afterwards was often all the more cruel, but he learned to deal with it very slowly.

Vegeta was so preoccupied with his own healing – into which Piccolo's self-sacrificing care played a significant part – that the shock was all the greater when one day he realized how badly Piccolo was doing himself. The stoic martial arts master would never show his pain openly, but if you looked closely, it was clear that he was suffering. Above all, it was the painful, guilty looks that Piccolo gave Vegeta when he thought the other man didn't notice.

Shattering feelings of guilt poured in on him in turn, and once again, he cursed himself for his selfishness. Piccolo would not blame him that Vegeta had been busy recovering; he realised for himself that it was important to do so, but he should have noticed that his partner had not gotten through the whole tragedy without scars.

Vegeta knew that trying to tell Piccolo that it wasn't his fault would be of little use. They had to get out of here, he decided, needed distraction. Sitting in Vegeta's loft all day would eventually drive them both crazy.

Vegeta resolutely began to plan, and thereby banished his own self-pity to the far corner of his consciousness.   
He had Bulma build him an antigrav chair that would give him a bit more mobility than a normal wheelchair, and when Bulma's construction was finished in record time, Vegeta actually managed to get Piccolo out of the house.

They avoided the city center, as well as places where there were too many people. Going back among people was all well and good, but you didn't have to overdo it.  
One day, surprisingly, their path led them to the street where Piccolo's school had been. And suddenly, they were standing in front of that place. For a moment, both men were shocked that they found themselves here, but at least Vegeta got around after a short time.

He looked up questioningly at Piccolo who was staring motionlessly at the charred meadow on which his entire life's work had once stood.

“When do you want to start rebuilding?”

Piccolo winced violently as Vegeta's voice tore him out of his trance. Piccolo looked down at Vegeta in surprise and then frowned. “I don't know if I should have it rebuilt at all,” he sighed.

“Why not?” Vegeta asked, completely shocked. “ This school was your life. You can't just throw that dream away.”

Piccolo just shrugged and looked back at the scorched earth.

“If it's because of the money, don't worry about it,” Vegeta tried to build up his partner. “I will take care of it.”

At least that made Piccolo smile faintly. “Thank you. But it's not just because of the money. No one will send their children to me ever again. After all, the bomb could have gone off during the day... I don't want to even think about it...”

“Hmm, you have a point there, but leave that to me, too. I have, if I want, more influence than you think. And I can also be very convincing.”

This time, it was an honest, amused smile that adorned Piccolo's features. “I know that.”

“If they see that Trunks is still coming to you, their worries will be dispelled. The little brat can also be quite charming if he wants to. And I know that he would love nothing more than to help you.”

“He's taking after his father, doesn't he?”

“Well, he is handicapped by both sides. Bulma is also quite good at getting her will.”  
Piccolo smiled before sighing thoughtfully. “Tenshinhan also offered to help with the rebuilt. He also wants to use his influence to restore my reputation.”

“I didn't expect otherwise to be honest,” Vegeta stated. “After all, it was you who brought him to where he is now – ah, ah, ah, no argument,” Vegeta quickly stopped Piccolo's protest. “You showed him the right way and he wants to return the favour. This shows that you not only taught him how to fight, but also what a decent person you helped turn him into.”

In the end, he accepted Vegeta's reasoning; a discussion he had already had with Noriko and Tenshinhan in a similar way, and now he slowly realized that it might be okay to accept this help and that he did not have to go through it alone. Besides, he never stood a chance against Vegeta anyway. Or Noriko. “I am very grateful to all of you for your help, but... Even if all of these hurdles have been overcome, I still don't know whether I should rebuild the school.”

“What?! Why not?!” Vegeta stared at his younger lover, stunned. “This school and martial arts are your life!” He repeated himself, he knew that, but what else could you say to that? He couldn't really think of any other arguments at the moment.

“ It's just... Until I met you, I had nothing else in my life. Maybe it's time to start a new path. Because the truth is that not only did I try to make amends for my father's actions, I also hid away in this school. I always thought that I was happy with this life and I am still a very private person, don't get me wrong, but since this whole thing got out, I am free. I don't have to hide anymore, I could even see the world if I felt like it.”

Vegeta had listened to him attentively and thoughtfully the entire time. When Piccolo had finally finished, he nodded slowly. “You have a point there,” he had to admit.

“Maybe one day, I'll rebuild it –  after all, I need a task in my life –, but at the moment I want to leave it as it is.”

“Okay, if that's what you want. Then... we could travel if you like. I can show you the world...” Vegeta broke off abruptly, suddenly unsure, but before he could say another word, Piccolo beat him to it, “I'd like that.” He smiled at Vegeta. “I would be happy if you showed me a little bit of the world.”

Piccolo's sudden change of mind surprised Vegeta, and in the night, he lay awake for a long time, and thought about their conversation in the afternoon. 

At one point, he must have fallen asleep because suddenly, he started from sleep, and found himself alone in bed One look at the clock told him that it was almost three in the morning. So, where the hell was his lover?

Puzzled, he sagged back into the pillows, and waited. He had to suppress a yawn when his eyes started to fall shut again, but eventually, Piccolo returned into the room. 

“You're cold,” he mumbled drowsily when Piccolo joined him in bed again, but he nonetheless snuggled up to his lover's strong body. “What've you been up to?”

“I have to talk to you. Don't worry...” Piccolo calmed the older man when he stiffened. “It's about... about this,” he explained, and held up the Dragonball into the beams of moonlight that fell through the window.

Vegeta frowned, puzzled that Piccolo wanted to have this conversation in the middle of the night. What restless thoughts or dream had driven him out of bed?

“Do you believe in this?” he asked carefully.

Vegeta felt Piccolo shrug. “Why not?” He pulled Vegeta tighter against his side. “I want to try. What if it's true?” Both men thoughtfully regarded the orange crystal ball with the four red stars in its core. 

“I... I don't want to get your hopes up. It's probably just a silly, absurd idea, but...”

“It wouldn't leave you alone otherwise, right?”

Piccolo nodded.

Vegeta knew that his lover didn't want to give him the chance to walk again out of love alone. A huge motivator to tackle this undertaking probably was because Piccolo simply had to do this to quieten his nagging guilt. Vegeta could understand this, and for him, it was out of the question that he would make this journey, and be it only to give Piccolo's soul some peace.

“Okay, then let's find out,” Vegeta eventually said with determination, and closed his fist around Piccolo's and the Dragonball. 

“You want what?” Bulma spun around to him, and stared at him out of big blue eyes, shocked, but at the same time furious. For a moment, she was tempted  to suspect him of brain damage resulting from the explosion, but held back at the very last moment voicing those words since even she had the decency not to remind Vegeta of his hard fate any more than couldn't be avoided.

“You heard me,” he replied calmly, and withstood her piercing gaze. 

Frustrated, Bulma shook her head. “You're in no state to make such a journey! And why do you want to do that anyway? It's just an old wives' tale.”

“I'd have thought you of all people would grasp every opportunity to solve a secret.” He eyed her speculatively.  
“That was a long time ago,” she replied. “My priorities have changed. Trunks is one of them, for example. And he should be yours, too. What if something happens to you?! How am I supposed to explain that to our son?” she exclaimed angrily, and he winced as her voice had the habit of becoming shriller with her increasing anger and hysteria.

“What else could happen to me? Besides, Trunks would want to come with me if I asked him. I just asked you for a favor, and didn't ask for your opinion.” At moments like these, he was only too aware of why Bulma and he were a bad idea as a couple, but fortunately, they'd both recognised the danger of explosion in their relationship just in time.

For seemingly endless minutes, she just stared at him with a fiery look, her arms crossed over her chest, her lips pursed disapprovingly, and tapped her foot on the floor which slowly drove him crazy. But he waited. After all, he wanted something from her.

He recognized her defeat before she even said a word. Her shoulders suddenly lost their tension, and she threw her arms up in frustration.

“Fine,” she exclaimed. “I'll take a look at this Dragonball, and try to find out if it emits some kind of signal I can scale. Maybe I can built you some kind of radar.” She glared at him once more, and interrupted herself in her sudden enthusiastic scientific eagerness. “ funkelte ihn erneut an und unterbrach sich wieder in ihrem plötzlich aufkommenden wissenschaftlichen Eifer. “Just f or the record: I do not support your nonsense in any way! ”

“Noted,” he replied, satisfied. “And now get to work.” he grinned at her insolently when he handed her the Dragonball with which she would have loved nothing more than to bash in his head with it. He still managed to wrap her around his little finger, that bastard! 

After long, careful planning, they set off. Alone, because Trunks and Goten would of course have given anything to be allowed to accompany the two men, but both Vegeta as well as Bulma, Piccolo and Chichi had put their foot down, so that all four agreed completely for once.  
Bulma had provided them with a vehicle that – typically Bulma – was not just an off-road vehicle, but could be converted into an airplane, ship or even submarine if required. Exactly what they needed for their adventure trip.

As they travelled the world, always following the radar's signal, Vegeta was slowly but surely forgetting his depression about his dire fate. Or at least managed to push it all to the back of his mind. They saw and experienced far too much for him to have had time for moping about. And thus completely relaxed and detached from all obligations, he felt completely free for the first time in a long time. A feeling he had otherwise only felt in the peace and quiet of Piccolo's flat.  
And when they found the second Dragonball, hidden in a cave deep in the mountains, he felt something like hope springing up. He had made this whole trip just for the sake of Piccolo's peace of mind, but when the two crystal balls lay together before them and suddenly started to glow in a miraculous way, Vegeta couldn't help but believe that there might actually be something like magic in this world that could really heal him.

What was worrying, however, were the dreams which increased in frequency and intensity the more Dragonballs they found. They were strange, sometimes even frightening dreams full of blood and anger and fights, even of monsters and trips into space, but the really terrifying thing was that Piccolo had the exact same dreams. And it couldn't be both of them going crazy, right?   
It drove Vegeta crazy not to be able to solve this secret, but he might have to bow to Piccolo's advice and accept it until they had all seven balls together. Maybe then they would get some answers.

And then one day, it happened. All seven Dragonballs lay in front of them and shone in an unearthly golden glow.

The two men looked at each other. Fear, but also awe was reflected in each other's eyes, but finally, they nodded in silent agreement. They had come so far that they would not duck out now.  
They turned to the balls and let this solemn, almost spiritual moment effect them for a while.  
But then...

“Please, Shenlong, appear and fulfill our wish!” No sooner had these words come over Vegeta's lips than the seven crystal balls in front of them began to shine in a bright light. The sky suddenly darkened, lightning flashed against the black clouds and a violent wind rose. The glow of the balls grew stronger from second to second, and in a garish explosion, a pillar of pure light shot up from the Dragonballs into the dark sky. Twitching and writhing, the pillar of light meandered endlessly until it finally came to a standstill and the light faded. A giant, green-scaled dragon appeared before the stunned eyes of the two men. Red eyes sparkled red and the dragon's long whiskers swayed gently in the wind.

After the initial shock about the appearance of the imposing creature – that it had worked at all –, the two men recalled the seriousness of the situation. Piccolo stepped forward, looking up at the huge creature.

“Tell me your wishes; I will grant you two!” the dragon's dark voice rumbled. 

Piccolo swallowed. “First, we have a question,” he started hesitantly. 

The red-glowing eyes of the dragon narrowed a bit. “Very well, then ask.” 

“Do you know the meaning of the strange dreams we are experiencing since we began our journey?”

The dragon narrowed its eyes even more so that he looked as if he considered something intensely. “They are memories of your former life.”

“Our former life?” Vegeta threw in sceptically.

“Indeed. Somebody who wanted to get rid of you and your friends wished that all of you led a normal, human life.”

The two men stared at the dragon, then at each other in shock.

“Somebody changed our whole lives?”

“To get rid of us? Why?”

“You'll understand the why when you got your old lives back since I believe that what you just learned as well as the visions changed your original wish, correct?”

“You could really undo what happened? You could give us back our original lives?”

“That's no problem for me,” the dragon replied.

Questioningly, Vegeta looked at Piccolo. He opened his mouth to say something, but the look in Piccolo's eyes told him what he wanted to know. But there was one thing the dragon had to tell him. “Tell me, Shenlong, in this other life... were Piccolo and I a couple there as well?”

The question seemed to surprise Piccolo as well as the dragon. The dragon frowned. “No, you weren't.”

“Will we be able to keep our memories of this life so that we will know how we feel about each other later on?”

He would never have thought of asking the dragon about it, but now that Vegeta was expressing this thought, Piccolo was terrified that they would forget their feelings for each other as soon as they returned to this other, unknown life. Under no circumstances could this happen. No life, no memory, whether false or not, was worth forgetting what connected him and Vegeta.  
He was so absorbed in his terrible thoughts that he almost missed the dragon's answer.

“You can keep that part of your memories. I will let you have the memories of the last few months, but everything else, the details of this false life will fade. And the rest of the world, especially your friends and families won't remember this changed timeline. That's less confusing for all involved.”

Vegeta noticed that the dragon became impatient. Therefore, he looked at the huge creature determinedly. “Alright, then do that, please.”

“Very well.” The dragon's eyes suddenly gleamed bright red. The light they took in with their eyes seemed to bore itself directly into their bodies;  it flooded their minds and tore away the veil that had hidden their real memories. A flood of images, memories and sensations fell over Piccolo and Vegeta, which brought them to their knees. At the same time, a familiar force ran through their bodies. The blood shot through their veins faster when they became aware of an old, familiar strength. The intensity of the feelings and memories that poured into them and the sudden strength in their bodies knocked them to the ground, dazed. And then, as suddenly as it all started, it was over again. The two warriors got to their feet, trembling, and their eyes searched for each other after they were standing strong again. Vegeta looked into the familiar features of the Namek whom he had known for years, but with whom he now shared something that would change everything.

For Piccolo, Vegeta's original appearance, his black, flaming hair and his impressive, powerful aura, were as familiar as his other self had become in the past few months. Delighted and infinitely relieved, he found that not only had they regained their strength, memories and their original appearance, but that Vegeta's injuries were completely healed and he was standing proudly beside him.

“What's your second wish?” suddenly, Shenlong's droning voice reached their ears again. The two warriors turned their attention back to the dragon. 

“Lead us to the guy who wanted to get rid of us,” Vegeta called up towards the dragon.

The dragon huffed loudly. “I'll tell you for free since I feel generous today.”

“We thank you, Shenlong,” Piccolo answered, and respectfully bowed his head before the dragon. “Don't mention it. That human annoys me. I don't like people tampering with the plane of reality. That only causes problems which then I have to set right.” Shenlong's razor-sharp teeth flashed menacingly in his snout for a moment. “You will find him in the former headquarters of the Red Ribbon Army. He was one of them, and now wants to resume the Army's world dominion plans. If you ask me, that boy is crazy. Well then, if you don't need me any more, see you next time.”

In a blazing flash, the dragon suddenly dissolved, and the Dragonballs sped away in all directions. In the next second, the sky became light again.

The Namek and the Saiyan prince remained, still overwhelmed by what had happened in the last few minutes.

To shake off the numb feeling that had come over them, Vegeta shook his head firmly. Then, he looked over to Piccolo. “You got any idea where these headquarters are supposed to be?”

“Ehm... yes, Goku once told me. Somewhere south of Korin Forest.” 

“Good. Then come. I want to get this over with.”

Silently, they flew towards the former headquearters of the Red Ribbon Army. Both of them dwelled on their own thoughts which caused an obstinate silence between them.

Vegeta just wanted to get rid of this guy as soon as possible to, in turn, get rid of any obstacles that could obstruct his future with Piccolo. 

The Namek on the other hand had a bad feeling. He couldn't figure out what Vegeta had meant. Did the prince want to continue their relationship or not? What he had said to Shenlond seemed to indicate that, but then, what did he mean by he wanted to get it over with? Had he been talking about their enemy or about their relationship as well? But that wouldn't make any sense, would it? Not after what Vegeta had asked the dragon... 

Piccolo was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Vegeta falling behind. When he did notice after a few seconds, he stopped his flight, and looked back. Slowly, the prince advanced on him, a thoughtful look on his face. He stopped next to Piccolo. 

“What's the matter?” Piccolo wondered. “Why do you stop?” 

The Saiyan scrutinised him. “You tell me.”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Piccolo replied testily.

“You brood. So hard in fact that I can feel it, and it gives me a headache.” The prince crossed his arms before his chest expectantly. “Well. I'm waiting.”

Gritting his teeth, Piccolo tried to withstand the relentless gaze. He couldn't. Oh well. Better now than later. He finally wanted clarity. 

“What did you mean when you said you want to get it over with?”

Vegeta's eyes widened in shock when he understood what had made the Namek ask that. He hovered nearer to him. He let out a humourless laugh. “You are such an idiot!” he clarified, reached for the sensitive antenna on Piccolo's forehead, and pulled his lover into a intimate, possessive kiss.

Piccolo made a startled, stifled noise when Vegeta grasped his delicate antenna, but he quickly overcame his shock in favour of the kiss into which he quickly lost himself. For a few minutes, they kissed passionately during which the Namek was glad to float because otherwise, his knees would have become weak.

Eventually, Vegeta pulled back, and gently caressed his face. “Does that answer your question?”

Dazedly, the taller warrior nodded. 

“Great.” Grinning, he patted the Namek's cheek. “Now move along.” 

And with that, Vegeta continued their flight swiftly so that Piccolo had to hurry to keep up with him. Stubbornly, he looked straight ahead. _What the Hell did being in love to me?!_ he wondered angrily. _I hate these sentimentalities! But on the other hand..._ He threw a hesitant look at the prince. On the other hand, he didn't want nor could he live without Vegeta anymore, no matter in which life. 

Dealing with their so-called enemy wasn't almost worht mentioning. The underground laboratory hidden under the rubble of the headquarters was found in record time − through Vegeta blowing up most of their vicinity − whereupon a miserable, apparently not very clear-minded human being fled to the surface.

“What are we gonna do with him?” Piccolo asked, while they watched the man from a distance how he crawled out of a big cloud of dust, coughing and wheezing. 

“Better we kill him,” Vegeta stated decidedly, and crossed his arms before his chest. “Just in case.” 

Piccolo made an indignant noise. 

“What?” Vegeta snapped.

“I could erase his memories. Then we'd be rid of him as well.”

“Hmpf, for all I care, you philanthrope.” 

“Hmpf.” And with that, Piccolo flew over to the strange guy, keeping his opinion to himself that they owed this human since Vegeta and he got together only through the man. Considering that, he should let him live. 

“Ask him why he did it!” Vegeta shouted after him.

It didn't take even five minutes for Piccolo to return to Vegeta who had preferred to remain outside the pesky dust cloud. 

“And?”

“I think he was part of the Red Ribbon Army, some old enemies of Goku's.” Piccolo shrugged. “He wanted to revive the Army's glorious times or some such rubbish.” 

Vegeta grunted cynically. “How dumb. How did he plan to achieve that by turning us all into humans and tampering with our memories?” 

“No idea. If you ask me, that guy has a screw loose somewhere.”

Vegeta could only answer to that with an affirmative grunt.

For a few moments, they paused to observe the smoking remains of the headquarters. Then, Vegeta suddenly looked up to Piccolo. He frowned. “You're taller than you were this morning,” he realised. And really; the Namek was more than a head taller than he had been as a human. He hadn't really noticed until now since Piccolo still wore the human clothes he had worn before the wish, even if they had somehow adjusted to the Namek's body height. Maybe it had something to do with Piccolo's magic. Anyway, Vegeta thought the sight wasn't so bad; unfamiliar but attractive...

Surprised, Piccolo looked down to Vegeta, and blinked a few times.

“True, but now you can float up to me, after all,” he grinned challengingly.

Vegeta needn't be asked twice. At eye level with Piccolo, he stopped. “You could bend down to me instead,” the prince replied smugly. 

“Bad for my back,” Piccolo countered drily before he pressed their lips together again. “You're simply too small,” he sighed mock-reproachfully against Vegeta's mouth, and then kissed him once more. 

The prince though broke away from him, and pouted. “You've become awfully cheeky, you know that?!”

“Admit it, you love it.”

“Sure.”

“But you're still the same swiftly offended diva you were a few weeks ago.” 

“What?! Diva?! Who said that?!” 

“Trunks. I only agreed with him.”

“The nerve of that kid. If the brat hadn't forgotten everything, I'd give him a proper taling-to.” 

“Yeah, yeah.”

Grumbling, Vegeta turned away to cast one last look on the deed of his destruction. 

“You think they're out there somewhere?” he suddenly wondered a little wistful. 

“Who?”

“The people we thought that we know them half our lives not even half an hour ago. Noriko, the band...” 

Piccolo shuffled closer to Vegeta, and placed a hand onto his shoulder. “They're somewhere out there. Only,  _ The Saiyans _ are called something else, and Noriko's probably sitting at the reception in one of Satan's schools.” 

Vegeta shuddered. “I'm tempted to go looking for her, and relieve her from her suffering.”

“Hear, hear,” Piccolo chuckled. “You really have to pity her if you of all people say that.” 

“Hm.” Vegeta sighed, and leaned against Piccolo while staring up into the sky.

“You know what's too bad?”

Sceptically, Piccolo arched up one eye ridge. “Well, I'm dying to know.” 

Regretfully, Vegeta shrugged. “I'll miss how Tenshinhan checkmates Mr. Satan. This won't happen in this timeline I'm afraid.”

Piccolo had to chuckle given Vegeta's crestfallen face. “True. It's not possible here.” 

“What a shame,” the prince sighed longingly.

If it hadn't been beneath him, Piccolo would have burst out in louf laughing while wrapping the incredibly childish and cute prince tightly in his arms. But he held himself back. Instead, he let his had that still rested on Vegeta's shoulder slide into the prince's neck, and caressed the smooth skin and fine hairs there with his thumb.

“Our time as humans was... nice,” Vegeta admitted after a few minutes of comfortable silence, slightly contrite. “It was liberating not having to save the world for a change, and that the biggest problems you could have were screaming fans pouncing on you.”

Piccolo nodded. “It was, yeah. But nonetheless, I'm glad to be myself again.”

Vegeta made a consensual noise before he turned to Piccolo, looking up at him grinning impishly. “There are huge advantages in being us again.”

Piccolo didn't want to ask. “Being?”

“You know this Demon Hand technique, right? Can you do that with other body parts as well?”

Piccolo didn't know if he should laugh hysterically or cry in desperation. What had he gotten himself into! Until now, he hadn't known that Saiyans concocted up such perverse, obscene thoughts in their stupid heads. “I can even make my body grow bigger or smaller... or only parts of it,” he answered drily, leaving Vegeta speechless who caught himself though remarkably fast again. 

“Really? That's incredibly interesting. I think we should discuss this further.”

“Like I know you, you'd prefer a demonstration.” 

Vegeta grinned. “You got to know me better in the last few weeks than I thought.” 

Piccolo huffed in amusement. “I didn't need the past weeks for that. You Saiyans are all the same, impatient and more on the practical than theoretical side.”

“Completely right. So, shall we?”

“Eh, where to?”

“To the Lookout of course. That's where you live, isn't it?”

“Ah, you want your demonstration right now.” 

“What did you think?”

“How could I ever ask.”

Chuckling, the two warriors rose into the air, and headed in the direction of  Korin Forest. 

“You know what I won't miss?” Piccolo asked after a few minutes.

Sceptically, Vegeta looked at him. “What?”

“You serenading me in front of thousands of screaming fans.” Piccolo grinned sardonically when he saw Vegeta shudder. 

“Don't worry. I can assure you never to do something like that!” he barked back, and crossed his arms before his chest, insulted, to distract from his beet-red cheeks. “And in my defence: It was Gohan's idea,” he added with a grumble.

He flew even faster when Piccolo started to laugh at him.

What in the Gods' name had he let himself get involved with. 

When they arrived at the Lookout, they were, to their surprise, already awaited by Goku, Gohan, Trunks and Goten. Much to Vegeta's chagrin since he didn't want to stand for any interruptions of their intimate togetherness.

“Shall we tell them?” Piccolo murmured. 

The prince wrinkled his nose. ”Not now, we don't. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ah, there you are,” Goku cried in relief, and ran up to them. 

“What do you want?” Vegeta immediately cut of any lengthy rambling. 

“Have you felt it, too?”

Questioningly, Piccolo scrutinised his pupil who came to a stop beside his father. “What are you talking about, kid?”

“Well, almost three hours ago, a energy burst shot through us all. Right after someone seemed to have summoned the dragon.” 

“That's been us,” Piccolo calmed down the young Saiyan. 

“What?” Goku and the half-Saiyans cried simultaneously. 

“But why?” Trunks asked, and questioningly looked up to his father. 

“We just had to set something right again,” the prince explained curtly. “Everything's all right now.” 

“Really? But since the Dragonballs appeared, we're all having memory gaps,” Gohan objected vehemently. 

“Oh, really.” Vegeta and Piccolo threw each other an amused gaze.

“Yeah. Somehow, the past few weeks are all, well,  _ foggy _ .” Confused, Goku scratched his head. “Don't you think so as well?” 

Once more, Vegeta and Piccolo looked at each other, hard pressed to keep in a chuckle. 

“No, can't say that,” Piccolo replied as serious as possible.

“Huh?”

Vegeta chuckled while grasping Piccolo's wrist, and turning in the direction of the palace to simply ditch the other Saiyans. “Let's just say we had an interesting time,” he called back over his shoulder. “And it'll get even more interesting,” he grumbled to himself, earning a fond, exasperated grin from Piccolo.

“Time? What do you mean, interesting  _ time _ ? Vegeta!”

But by then, the Saiyan prince and the Namek had already disappeared inside the palace. 

** End **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Vegeta plays his guitar solo to during the concert is [Dawn of Victory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0L_iOnLNt9M) by Rhapsody of Fire and the one he sings with Amy is Sunrise Avenue's [Nothing Is Over](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vr23F3pUV_I)
> 
> And here is a link to a [cover](https://www.deviantart.com/art/Frontpage-Dragonball-Z-Both-Sides-of-the-Story-584557837) I did ages ago.


End file.
